Time of Death
by supernaturalsam
Summary: COMPLETE! The countdown has begun...UPDATED AUGUST 10, 2007!
1. Prologue

**Well, here's my third fic...Just to let you know it takes place after the events of AHBL, so there may be spoilers!**

**I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think, good or bad.**

**A big thanks to Bayre, my fantabulous beta!**

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**University of Nebraska--Lincoln**

"Hey, Abby! Come here, I want to show you something!"

Nineteen year old Abigail Sinclair rolled her eyes at the group huddled around the computer as she set down her purse and keys. She'd already had a long day what with classes and her shift at Jerkey's, the local campus diner and the last thing she needed was her dorm room being occupied by night owl college students. She knew there wasn't a chance they'd be leaving any time soon and she only had one person to blame—her roommate, Monica Sellers.

"What took you so long?" Monica, a petite auburn haired girl, asked. "I thought you got off at ten."

"I was supposed to, but we had some last minute customers. Billy wouldn't let us leave until they were gone." Abby wasn't even sure what time it was, she was just happy to be away from the diner. She glanced up at the clock and cringed when she saw it was eleven fifteen. She enjoyed her job and loved working for Billy, but she hated when customers decided to show up ten minutes till closing. There was no point in arguing with Billy, though—he would serve every last customer even if they walked through the door as it was being locked.

"Why don't you tell that boss of yours to shove it up his ass?" Ben Givens asked, tearing his eyes away from the computer screen long enough to glance back at her. His friend, Alex Chapman, barely acknowledged her.

Abby frowned at the blonde self-professed beach bum. "Because, Ben, this job is what's helping me pay for college."

"I thought you were on scholarship."

"I am, but the scholarship doesn't pay for everything." Abby walked into the bathroom and pulled her long blonde hair from the ponytail, immediately alleviating the tension from her head. She shook it out and turning the faucet on, splashed water on her weary face. She sometimes questioned why she bothered to stick with her job, but she wasn't lying when she told Ben she had to work. Her scholarships paid for a good portion of her tuition, but she still had to make up the five hundred dollar difference per semester herself. She was just starting her second year at the University of Nebraska on her way to earning her psychology degree and she still had a few more to go.

Not completely satisfied with the reflection she saw in the mirror, but deciding it will do anyway, Abby emerged from the bathroom and made her way to the small group. They were laughing and chatting about something on the computer screen. Abby nudged Monica and asked, "What are you looking at?"

"It's a new website everyone's been talking about on campus," Monica quickly explained.

"What makes it any different than any of the other thousand of sites that pop up each day?"

Ben turned around in his chair to flash her a brilliant smile. "This one is actually interesting."

"How?"

"It's a site called timeofdeath dot com…and it's exactly what it sounds like. You go on to the site, type in your name, birthday, sex, and lifestyle and it will tell you when you're going to die," Ben said.

Abby shrugged. "There's already a site like that…deathclock dot com."

Ben nodded. "Yeah, but does that one tell you _how _you're going to die?"

"No, but why should it? Nothing can predict how you're going to die." Abby walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. "I don't see why you three are wasting you're time with that crap. Surely there's something else you can be doing?" _Away from here_, she thought as she took a sip of the water. "So, what did it say about the three of you?"

"I'm supposed to die in 2045 as the result of being hit by a bus," Alex said, wryly.

"Oh, that's not the best one," Monica said, smiling. "I'm going to die in 2056 in an apparent freak shoe accident."

"A freak shoe accident?" Abby rolled her eyes once more. "How do you die in a freak shoe accident?"

"I don't know, but come on, Abby. We never said any of this was real. We're just having a little fun," Monica said.

"Can't you do this somewhere else? I've had a long night and I need to get up early tomorrow for my Calculus test."

"I'll make a deal with you," Ben said. "You come over here and do this with us, and we'll leave."

Abby eyed Ben suspiciously. She learned long ago not to make deals with him, since it almost always led to some form of trouble. But really, what was the harm in it? She could amuse him and get them out of her dorm so she could try to get a few hours of sleep in before her exam. "Fine—but then you leave."

Ben smiled and jumped up from his chair to let Abby take his seat. "Okay, just fill out the form, click submit and it will tell you everything."

Abby did as she was instructed and clicked "submit." As she waited for her results, she looked up at Ben. "So, what did it say about you?"

Ben's smile became cocky. "Oh, it said I would die in a few years in the arms of a beautiful woman."

"Oh, God…now I know this is a load of crap."

Ben laughed and pointed at the screen as Abby's result popped up. "Let's see what the Almighty says about you."

Abby turned her attention back to the screen and chuckled. "Oh, and the day just keeps getting better. It says here I'm going to die in 2065, from a fall down the stairs." She turned around in the chair to look at the group. "Okay, I did what you wanted, so get out."

"I never said when we would leave." Ben's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"You're leaving now." Abby got up from the chair and walking to the door, she opened it and waved her hand towards the hall. "Okay…out."

Ben sighed but nodded his head towards Alex. "Come on, Alex…we better get out before she tosses us out on our ass."

"And you know I'd do it."

"Wait, I'll come with you," Monica said, picking up her purse from the sofa. "I'm not ready to call it a night yet." Grabbing Alex's hand, she pulled him towards the door and turned to smile at Abby. "Don't wait up for me."

Abby smiled and watched her friend drag Alex down the hall.

"You sure you want us to go?" Ben asked, softly caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Abby sighed. She knew what Ben was hinting at, but she couldn't do that now. It was just better if they stayed friends and away from any intimate situation. She knew Ben knew that as well, but she had to give him props for his perseverance. "I'm sure."

"Okay." Ben bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. Abby didn't give in to the kiss, but she didn't pull away either. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Abby nodded and closed the door behind him. Leaning against the door, she wondered if she did the right thing sending him away. There had always been something between the two of them, but Abby didn't want to act on it, not after her latest relationship went up in flames. She'd only broken up with her last boyfriend almost two weeks ago, and she wasn't ready to go there again. The hurt had been too painful and she just wasn't sure if she could handle being hurt like that again, especially not by Ben.

Making sure the door was locked, she walked over to the computer to shut it off for the night. Just as she was about to close the website, a flash across the screen caught her attention. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the death countdown clock change from the year 2065 to the year 2007. "What the…" She blinked and when she looked at the screen again, she saw the year was back to 2065.

Abby laughed at herself for getting freaked out. "Definitely time to get to bed."

She quickly shut down the computer and turned the light off in the living room. She went into her bedroom and flipped on the light, her eyes lighting upon the figure of a man materializing in front of her. "Who are you?" she asked, shakily.

"Your time of death has come."

Abby felt her heart kick into overdrive as she backed away from the mysterious man. She didn't know what was going on and she wasn't about the stick around and figure it out. She'd seen one too many horror movies in her lifetime and she knew what happened—she wasn't about to become one of those blonde bimbos who were too stupid to run.

Turning on her heel, she sped from the bedroom and to the door leading out of the dorm room. She fumbled with the deadbolt and chain lock, but finally they latched free and she yanked the door open. She chanced a look behind her and saw the man was slowly approaching, leering at her. She took off at a dead run down the long hall, yelling for anyone to help her. Several people popped their heads out the door, trying to see what the commotion was.

Abby turned her head to see the guy was still following her. All of a sudden, she collided into the solid form of one of her dorm mates at the end of the hall. "Abby, what's wrong? What's going on?"

Abby struggled in the girl's grip. "Let me go! He's coming after me! You have to let me go!"

The girl glanced behind Abby and shook her head. "Abby, there's no one behind you."

"No!" Abby pointed frantically behind her as the man continued his pursuit. "He's right there! Can't you see him?"

"Abby, there's no one behind you! You need to calm down!"

Abby shook her head and finally pulled herself from the girl's grip. She suddenly lost her footing and before she could stop herself, she lost her balance. She frantically grabbed for anything that would help stop her fall, but didn't reach it in time. As she went tumbling down the stairs, she caught a glimpse of the mysterious guy dissipating into thin air, before landing in an unmoving heap at the bottom of the staircase.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Thanks for the wonderful reviews everyone! They really mean a lot to me and I hope you continue to enjoy this!**

**We are moving on to the Winchesters...angst, boys lost in their thoughts, and Dean having some fun! There are spoilers for AHBL, so you have been warned!**

**Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Big thanks to Bayre for having my back!**

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"_Did I die?" Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question or not. A part of him was willing to let it remain a mystery, he could find himself being content if he never knew the answer. But the other part, the one screaming at him right now needed to know, needed to know everything._

_Dean shakes his head. "No."_

_A simple answer, but it speaks volumes to the young hunter. He knows Dean is lying, trying to protect him once again, but he can't—not this time. He couldn't always protect Sam from the truth and Sam needed his older brother to understand that. Sam stares at the elder Winchester and instantly realizes what Dean did, it's written in his eyes. "Did you sell your soul for me, like Dad did for you?"_

"_Aw, come on—no!" Dean tries to brush it off, but Sam knows, he knows what Dean did for him and it's almost too much for him to take. _Why? Why would Dean do this?_ But he knew why…his brother was once again going out of his way, putting his own life on the line for that of his younger brother's. _

_Sam watched as Dean tried to turn away, but he quickly steps in front of him. He has to know if what Dean did was true…it couldn't be real. Could Dean really be that stupid? "Tell me the truth," he begs and when he sees Dean try to close him off, he tries harder. "Dean…tell me the truth."_

_Dean shakes his head. "Sammy…"_

_He can hear the pleading, defeated tone of his brother's voice, and it is in that moment Sam knows he's right. Dean made the damn deal. "How long do you get?"_

"_One year," Dean replies softly. "I got one year."_

_Sam felt as if he'd been hit by a Mac truck. His brother, his guardian, was telling him he only had one year to live, one year before his soul would be condemned to Hell. He wants nothing more than to break down right there, but he had to make Dean understand how stupid he was, how foolish, and in an instant he feels his grief turning into anger. "You shouldn't have done that. How could you do that?"_

_Dean looks at him, his eyes begging for understanding. "Don't get mad at me, don't you do that. Now, I had to look out for you. That's my job."_

_Sam looked at Dean as if he'd lost his mind. "And what do you think my job is?"_

"_What?" Dean asks, confused._

"_You save my life, over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me, don't you think I'd do the same for you?" Sam sees the shocked expression on his brother's face, but he doesn't give Dean the chance to answer him. "You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."_

_Dean looks at Sam, touched, and can only nod his head._

"_I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this," Sam says passionately, but then a small smile forms on his lips. "I guess I gotta save your ass for a change."_

_Dean smiles softly. "Yeah."_

It had been two weeks since Dean made the deal, two weeks since the Yellow-eyed Demon was sent back to Hell, two weeks since Sam realized he may be spending his last months with his brother. They'd been at Bobby's since then, taking time to celebrate the defeat, and recovering from wounds, mental and physical. And while Sam seemed acceptant of his brother's deal and predicament, he was far from it. He still couldn't believe Dean would be stupid, careless enough to sacrifice his soul in order to save him. Why was he so damn important, anyway? Why was it Dean couldn't see past him, couldn't see how valuable he was to everyone and everything around him?

Ever since that confession two weeks ago in the cemetery in southern Wyoming, they hadn't spoken about it again. Dean didn't want to talk about it and Sam wasn't going to bring it up again. He couldn't do that to Dean, couldn't keep reminding him of his impending death. But it didn't mean Sam hadn't stopped thinking about it, though he was pretty sure it was all Dean was thinking about as well. Sam spent every single night after Dean went to sleep, searching for any way to get Dean out of his deal, to find a way to save him. He'd made a promise to his older brother, and he'd be damned if he was going to break that promise.

He also knew they had to keep hunting. Dean wasn't about to sit back and face his own mortality; he needed to be out there, doing something. After all, they had a whole mess of demons to worry about and Dean vowed to Sam he would keep fighting until his time came. Sam wasn't about to let Dean go out and do it alone. If it came down to the worst, and he couldn't find a way to get Dean out of his deal, he wasn't about to let the elder Winchester die alone. He at least owed that to the man who raised him, taught him everything he knew, guided him.

After two weeks of staying at Bobby's, Dean decided he was ready to get out and fight once more. Sam couldn't really blame him there, he was getting antsy himself and he was surprised Dean waited so long to get back to hunting. Sam scoured every newspaper and the internet for anything that might interest them and finally came across a case in Lincoln, Nebraska. It wasn't something that screamed supernatural, what with a student falling down a flight of stairs, but several of her dorm mates said she'd seen someone chasing her before she died, though they swore there was no one after her. That was enough to convince Dean, and soon they were on the road, driving away from Sioux City, South Dakota down Highway 77 towards Lincoln.

They hadn't spoken much, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Dean hadn't even popped in one of his tapes, which indicated to the younger Winchester that Dean was lost in his own head, working things out. He really wished Dean would just talk to him, let him in, but he knew it was useless. If Dean wanted to talk, he would—there was just no forcing the older man to do it. Dean had always been like that and Sam had learned to accept it, though it pissed him off mightily to know Dean could just close him off like that. He knew why Dean did it—he didn't want Sam to worry, didn't want him to feel guilty.

Sam didn't need Dean's help in those categories—he was doing just fine with them on his own. Sam was worried, more than he'd ever been in his short life. And he felt guilty as hell—how could he not? Inevitably, this was his fault. It was his fault Dean made the stupid deal, it was his fault Dean always put himself before everything else, it was his fault Dean didn't have the life he deserved, the one that hadn't been forced upon him.

But the guilt wasn't the only thing eating away at him—it was the fear. The fear of losing that support system he'd relied on all his life. The fear of losing his guardian, the man he would always refer to as his father, or the closest thing he'd ever had to one. The fear of losing his hero, his entire reason for continuing on this never-ending quest. The fear gripped his heart and it was something he thought about every day, something that slowly ate away at him but he couldn't put into words. How in the hell was he supposed to say good-bye to the man who'd given his life some semblance of meaning?

Then there was the other fear—fear for himself. What would he do if he didn't have Dean in his life every day? Sure, he'd gone without Dean when he went to Stanford, but that was different. Dean was always just a phone call, plane ticket, or drive away. But this would be different, final. So, what would Sam do? How would he be able to continue on? Where would he get that support he needed? The love, the comfort? How did Dean expect him to go on living after he was gone? Did that thought even cross Dean's mind as he made the deal?

"I'm hungry," Dean spoke up, breaking the silence and causing Sam to jump a little. "You want something?"

Sam saw an exit sign approaching and right beside it, a huge billboard proclaiming they were on their way to the best burgers in the state of Nebraska. "Sure…sounds good."

Dean nodded and said nothing as he turned off the exit, pointing the Impala towards Buddy's Burgers.

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Dean wasn't stupid. He didn't fall out of a stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. He wasn't a few fries short of a Happy Meal. He knew why Sam remained so quiet, knew what Sam was doing every single night after he thought Dean had gone to sleep. Sam was worried and scared shitless and he wasn't doing a great job of hiding it. He could feel the guilt flowing off the younger man's body in waves and he wanted so much to ease that guilt from Sam. It wasn't that simple though, never was when it came to Sammy.

No, Sam would continue to carry that burden of guilt with him everywhere he went. And it hurt Dean so much to see the turmoil his baby brother put himself through. He shouldn't have to do that. Dean didn't make the deal so Sam could feel guilty; he made the deal so Sam could have his chance at the normal life he so craved. It was his gift to Sam and he wasn't about to let Sam discard it like it was nothing more than a pile of garbage.

Dean would never admit it, willingly at least, but he was scared as well. He tried to hide it behind his tough and sarcastic façade, but on the inside, hiding behind the wall he'd erected so long ago, he was freaking out. In fact, if someone should see inside him, he was sure they would find him hunkered down in a corner, rocking back and forth uncontrollably. It wasn't everyday you had a clock ticking down your last days on earth. Dean had come to realize as soon as he made the deal, a year wasn't really a long time, not at all.

He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, to see with Sam. He'd vowed to spend every day with his brother, every single day. Dean was sure Sam would get tired of him very soon, but Sammy was just going to have to suck it up. Dean was a dying man and if he had to play that dirty card in order to get his way, then dammit, he was going to do it. Sam could turn those pleading hazel eyes on Dean to get his way (because, God knew, Dean wasn't about to say "no" to those), so Dean was going to use his dying to do the same with Sam. Turn around was fair play, after all. And while that idea seemed a little shallow, it didn't bother Dean, he could be okay with that.

The silence was starting to wear thin on the elder hunter. This was the first time in two weeks he and Sam had hit the road. Sure they drove around a bit while they were at Bobby's, but that had only been to a couple of local bars and on errands for the older man. The silence didn't bother Dean then, because hell, it was only short trips and he knew they would be out of the car in no time. But they'd barely said two words to each other since they left the junk yard and Dean was starting to get antsy. He didn't want it to be like this, he didn't want every trip they took to be in silence. He didn't want that silence to define them, to give Sam the chance to dwell on his predicament. Something needed to be done and an approaching sign provided Dean with the excuse he needed.

"I'm hungry…you want something?"

Sam didn't turn to look at Dean, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the sign they were now passing. "Sure…sounds good."

Dean nodded but didn't say anything as he turned off the highway towards Buddy's Burgers. He knew Sam was only pacifying him by agreeing to stop for the best burgers in Nebraska, especially when Sam tried to stay away from greasy burger joints. But who knew? Maybe they had a warm salad with his name written all over it. Besides, it would give them the chance to get out, stretch their legs, and grab a bite to eat before they got to Lincoln.

Pulling into Buddy's, Dean saw the diner apparently lived up to its name considering the parking lot was full of lunchtime customers. Seeing an early-model silver Mazda backing up from a space at the front, Dean zipped in and snagged it before a Ford Ranger even had a chance. The driver of the Ranger blew the horn and Dean was sure he saw the guy flip him off, but the older hunter only smiled.

"Dude, that truck was waiting for this space," Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Dean shrugged. "Well, it's like I say, Sammy—shit or get off the pot. Not my fault he had his thumb up his ass and didn't move fast enough." He pushed open the door and stepped out, the bright sun temporarily blinding him. Sam pushed open his door and followed his brother into the bustling diner.

As soon as they entered, a frazzled young waitress with box-colored red hair and too much make-up, flashed a toothy smile at them as she filled up a glass of water for a customer. "You boys find anywhere you can to sit. I'll be with you just as soon as I can."

The brothers nodded and found a booth towards the back of the diner. Sliding into their seats, Dean smirked at Sam. "Hey, Sammy…I think you could actually have a chance with her."

"Bite me, Dean."

Dean chuckled. "Seriously, dude—clean her up a bit and you may have a pretty decent looking girl there."

"You're so damn interested, why don't you give it a shot?"

Dean fixed Sam with a serious look. "What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't let you have a chance with the women? I can't take them all from you."

"Save your charity for someone who cares, Dean." Sam said, scowling at his brother.

Dean's laughter was drowned out by the waitress's voice asking what they wanted to drink. Both brothers ordered soda and before she went off to get the drinks, she placed a couple of worn laminated menus in front of them. "You two take a minute to decide what you want and I'll be right back." She winked at Sam and Dean barely managed to withhold his laughter before she walked away, causing several patrons to frown at him.

Sam kicked Dean hard in the shin and the older hunter grabbed his leg, scowling. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Do you always have to be such an ass? I swear…I can't take you into any public place, can I?"

"So, I'm having a little fun," Dean complained. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is you're twenty-seven, Dean—grow up."

"Look, Sam, the way I see it is I have less than a year to live, right? I can either spend it moping around or I can have some fun."

"Dean, you don't know if you only have—"

Dean cut him off. "Whatever, Sammy…I'm not going to talk about this right now."

"You're the one that brought it up!"

"Yeah, and now I'm bringing it to a close."

"Fine."

Dean sighed softly as he watched Sam sulk and look down at his menu. Great, he'd managed to piss off his little brother which was exactly what he didn't want to do. He never should have brought his deal back up, even as a joke. He only got Sam's hopes up in thinking maybe he was ready to talk about it and Dean shot him down. He couldn't stand the look of hurt and disappointment on Sam's face and he hated that he kept doing it, especially after he promised himself he was going to stop.

"Look, Sammy, I know you want to help me and you want me to talk about it, but I can't right now." Sam looked up at him. "I just need some more time, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay, Dean."

Ruby the waitress came back to the table with their drinks, placing them in front of them along with a couple of straws. She pulled out her pad and pen and took down Sam's order of a chicken sandwich and Dean's order of a double cheeseburger with all the trimmings. The brothers sat in relative silence, exchanging a few words every now and then until Ruby came back with their orders fifteen minutes later. They ate quickly and Dean offered to pay the check, telling Sam to go ahead and wait in the car.

The elder Winchester emerged from the diner a few minutes later, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean curiously.

"Nothing."

Sam kept watching Dean, but he refused to say anymore as he started the Impala and pulled it onto the highway once more, heading towards Lincoln.

_Don't worry, Sammy…you'll find out soon enough…_


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews guys! As you may have noticed when you got your alerts or clicked on this story, I ahve changed my pen name. I spend so much time on the Supernatural boards and figured it would be easier if I used the same name here that I do there so when I point people towards my fics, they won't get confused.**

**Sorry for the lull in the update, but I was out of town for a few days and couldn't get to my computer to write.**

**Oh, and I got some great news this week and I just have to share it because I am about to burst...I was the runner-up in Sensue's Supernatural Fanfiction Awards Chick Flick category for Visionary! I could not be happier with that fic and I am so happy to have gotten that far with it!**

**As usual, many thanks to Bayre, my awesome fantastic beta!**

**Let me know what you think!**

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He smiled to himself as he saw the hits increasing on the site. He never expected it to become as popular as it had, but he was thrilled it did. For once, he would get the respect he deserved, the respect that was due to him. For too long he cowered in fear to those superior to him, but not anymore. He would show them all what is was to fear, to never know what could happen. He held that power in his hands and all it took was a measly little website for him to show that power.

He was tired of being teased day in and day out, never knowing who may be after him next. It wasn't his fault he didn't fit in with everyone, but after he was finished, he'd make them all wish they'd been a little nicer to him. He could have his way now—play God, so to speak. He got to decide who lives and who dies and he had to admit, it felt good to hold that decision in his hands. It was like a drug, and like a drug, he craved more of it.

He'd made the site simple enough—people would log in, type in their names and other information and their results would be sent back to them. He stayed online every available chance he had, in between classes and activities, making sure everything ran smoothly. The names and deaths would stay on record on his end, making it easier for him to pick and choose who would be next. He would relay the information to his supernatural hitman and left the rest to him. It was a pretty foolproof plan and he wondered why he didn't think of it even sooner.

But he couldn't do to it alone. He found he needed a little help. After all, he couldn't very well just go after everyone himself, he was only human. That was why he was using a little non-human help. It still seemed a little bizarre to him, that supernatural things existed in the world, and when one of his friends told him about it, he outright laughed at him. Monsters and ghosts were beings in stories people told to scare the pants off everyone, they weren't supposed to be real, not really. But if he hadn't conjured it up, seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it.

There were also repercussions using a supernatural being to do your dirty work—it began to get a mind of its own. Two nights ago was a perfect example of that, it was the night Abby Sinclair died. She never was supposed to die; she was one of the few who actually gave him the time of day. It wasn't her fault she hung out with the snobby students, she just had the misfortune of rooming with one of them. By the time he realized what was going on, it was too late to interfere. He couldn't stop it once it began and Abby had paid the price in the end.

But he was going to rectify that problem. He couldn't stop it now, he had to make the others pay. If not for himself, then for Abby. He, at least, owed that much to her. Clicking a page on the site, he smiled as the next name popped up at him—he knew who was going to be next.

"Are you ready to go out and play?" He turned in his chair and smiled at the figure materializing in the darkened corner of his small dorm room.

The figured stepped out of the shadows, nodding as a creepy smile formed on its face.

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The brothers arrived in Lincoln a few hours later and the first thing they looked for was a motel room. Since Lincoln was not only the capital of Nebraska, but a big college town, so finding a cheap motel wasn't too hard for the Winchesters. Sam waited in the car as Dean went into the office of the Budget Motel and conned their way into another home for the next few days. If Sam could help it, he tried to let Dean handle these little matters of business. It wasn't that Sam had a problem lying to people—well, a small one—but Dean was always better when it came to lying to people with a straight face.

Dean emerged from the office ten minutes later, smiling at Sam and holding the key up in victory as he walked around to get in the car.

"So, who are we supposed to be this time?" Sam asked.

Dean's smiled stayed plastered on his face. "The Kravitz brothers—Jason and Lenny."

Sam shook his head. "You know, sometimes I wonder how you come up with these names."

"It's an art, Sammy."

"Yeah, compliments of every classic rocker and listing in the phonebook."

"Hey, you have your job and I have mine."

"Too bad mine's legal."

"Too bad yours is boring," Dean corrected.

Dean backed the Impala away from the office and pulled up in front of room thirteen. The brothers got out of the car as one, grabbed their bags and Dean unlocked the door, pushing it open so they could get their first glance. It wasn't anything special, not that any of the rooms they stayed in were. Apparently, all cheap motels had the same basic decorating motif—faux pine walls, muddy colored coarse carpet, two full sized beds with faded light blue bedspreads, a small nightstand in between the beds, and a thirteen-inch television that maybe picked up five channels, if they were lucky. A bathroom was off to the right and judging by how the room looked, it probably wasn't anything to brag about, as well.

"You know, just once I would like to stay in a motel that looks as if it's been cleaned." Dean dropped his duffle beside the bed closest to the door.

Sam smiled as he dropped his own bag on his bed. He knew there was no way that was going to happen. If he and Dean wanted to stay under the radar, especially since they had the FBI on their tail now, they had to stay in these run-down motels. It was safer that way and Sam was all about safe now. He would be damned if he was going to let Dean be caught by the police now, he couldn't let Dean spend the remainder of his time in some jail cell.

"So, do you know where you want to start?" Dean asked as he rummaged through his bag.

"I think the best place to start would be at the campus where the girl was killed. Talk to the witnesses, see what they have to say about it."

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me." He looked down at his watch and saw it was nearing four o'clock. "We should get started if we're going, though."

The brothers gathered their jackets and were soon on their way to the Lincoln campus. Sam wasn't sure what they would find, but they had to start somewhere. There was really no research that could be done so the only way they were going to get answers, if there were any, was to ask around and get a feel for things.

Dean found the campus with relative ease and after asking for directions, the brothers were walking towards Miller Hall. Glancing around the campus, Sam couldn't help feel a twinge of jealousy running through him. It made him realize what he was missing once again after walking away from Stanford. A little part of him entertained the idea of him returning to college, but the logical part of him realized he may never get that chance again. Sam couldn't abandon Dean again, not after everything they'd gone through, after everything Dean had lost. He didn't know if Dean could handle anyone else leaving him, and he wasn't about to test it out. His brother needed him right now, and Sam was determined to stick around, no matter how long that may be.

"Sam, are you coming or what?"

Sam looked up at Dean, startled. He didn't even realize he'd stopped walking. Looking around, he saw a few students watching him and his face instantly started to grow warm. Ducking his head, he hurried to join his brother at the entryway.

"Dude, what were you doing down there?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

Dean cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything as he opened the door. Sam followed his brother into the building and held back as Dean stopped to talk to a curvy brunette. After a few seconds, Dean turned to look at Sam and nodded upstairs. "Tiffany said the girl's dorm is upstairs, on the third floor."

"Tiffany? You managed to get her name in the few short seconds you talked to her?" Sam asked in disbelief.

Dean smiled as he held up a slip of paper. "And her phone number."

Sam rolled his eyes and started up the stairs. "You're unbelievable, Dean."

"It has been said many times," Dean said as he hurried to catch up with Sam.

Coming to a stop in front of room 310, Dean knocked softly as Sam glanced up and down the hallway. Soon the door was opened by a petite auburn haired girl with hazel eyes, who appeared to have been crying.

"Can I help you?" she asked softly.

"Are you Abby Sinclair's roommate?" Dean asked.

The girl nodded. "I'm Monica—who are you?"

"We're cousins of Abby's—my name's Dean and this is my brother, Sam."

"Abby never mentioned you before." She wiped at her eyes and sniffled.

"Really? She talked about you all the time."

"She did?" Monica perked up a bit at that.

Dean nodded and Sam stepped forward. "Can we come in and talk to you, Monica?"

"Look, guys, now's not really a good time for me."

"Please, Monica." Sam frowned at her, eyes pleading. "We just need some answers."

Monica studied the brothers for a few moments and finally stepped back to hold the door open for them. Dean and Sam exchanged quick glances and entered the room. "You'll have to excuse the mess. Ever since Abby died, I just haven't felt up to doing anything."

"We understand," Sam said.

"Just find a seat anywhere." Monica grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on the small coffee table and took a seat on a small chair.

The brothers cleared a few things from the small sofa and took a seat. Dean nodded at Sam, telling him he could handle this. Sam knew why Dean didn't want to handle this—they were about to cross over into chick-flick moments and Dean shied away from those any chance he got. He was always teasing Sam about being emo about everything but Sam didn't really mind it. It wasn't as bad as Dean made them out to be and the younger hunter was sure it would do Dean a world of good if he would allow himself to be open to those moments every once in a while.

"So…Monica, were you and Abby close?"

Monica nodded. "We met each other a couple of years ago and just hit it off. She was like the little sister I never had."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"I wasn't here—I left right before it happened. But some of the girls around here said Abby was running away from something and screaming about something chasing her."

"Did they see what was chasing her?"

Monica shook her head. "That's just it—they said there wasn't anything chasing her. It was just Abby. They tried to calm her down, but Abby wouldn't listen, she just kept trying to get away."

"Was Abby stressed lately? Anything that would explain her behavior?"

Again, Monica shook her head. "She wasn't any more stressed than the rest of us, what with working and going to classes. She had a big Calculus exam coming up the next day and I guess we weren't helping her any."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Who's we?" Dean asked at the same time.

"Me and a couple of my friends. We were screwing around with the computer when Abby came home that night. She wanted us to leave so she could study, but we wouldn't. We made her come look at it."

"What site was it?"

Monica let out a wry chuckle. "It was so stupid—it was called time of death dot com."

"What the hell kind of site is that?" Dean asked, finally joining in the conversation. Sam shot him a look, but Dean just shrugged, keeping his attention on Monica.

Monica didn't seem bothered by the question. "Like I said, it was stupid. You log on, type in some stuff and it will tell you when and how you're going to…" her voice trailed off as her face became frozen with shock.

Sam leaned forward and put a hand on her leg. "What is it, Monica?"

"The site, it—it told us how we would die. It told Abby she would die after falling down a flight of stairs. But that can't be possible, right? I mean, it was just for fun. It can't really predict your death, can it?"

Sam and Dean exchanged an uneasy glance. Dean cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to Monica. "Who else got on that site, Monica?"

"What?"

"We need to know who else has been on that site. Who are these friends you were with that night?"

"But, I don't understand…"

"Monica, please," Sam pleaded.

"It was Abby, me, my boyfriend—Alex, and Ben. Why do you need to know this?"

"Look, Monica, it's probably nothing. We just want to check some things out, okay?"

"But Abby's death…it was just a coincidence."

Dean fixed her with an intense stare. "Do you really think that?"

"Yes…no…I don't know!" Monica broke down in tears, clutching the tissue to her eyes.

Dean frowned at Sam, and the younger hunter got the hint—Dean wanted out of there now before it got way too deep. "Monica, just be careful, okay?"

Monica looked up at the brothers, tears running down her cheeks. "What? Do you think I may be next?"

"We're not really sure what to think," Sam answered truthfully. He picked up a pen and pad lying on the small table and scribbled something on it. "Here's my number—call me if you need anything."

Monica nodded weakly as she took the pad from him. The brothers said their good-byes and quickly made their exit before the girl could break down on them once again.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked as soon as the door was shut.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not sure. A haunted website, maybe?"

"Have you ever heard of that?"

"No, never…but then again, this is us so anything's possible."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Come on, Alex…you ditching me already?" Ben asked, finally looking up from his video game.

Alex shrugged as he slipped on his jacket. "I told Monica I would check in with her."

"You can't call her? I heard a phone was a great way of doing that." Ben finally threw down his controller and stood up.

"Look, man, she's really taking Abby's death hard and I just don't like leaving her alone for long periods of time."

"Dude, you are so whipped." Ben laughed.

"Maybe I am," Alex relented. "And what about you? I thought you and Abby were close. Why aren't you taking this harder?"

"What do you want me to do, man? Dwell on it?" Ben shook his head. "I'm not going to do that. I grieved and I'm moving on."

"Whatever. Look, I'm gonna go before Monica gets worried. I'll talk to you later." Alex left before Ben could argue with him any further.

Alex didn't understand what Ben's problem was. He should have been a mess after Abby's death, but instead, he was doing nothing but making jokes and giving everyone else a hard time for grieving. Hell, Alex wasn't even close to Abby and he still felt bad about her death. He knew Ben liked Abby—there were some days when the guy couldn't stop talking about her. But now he was acting as if they never had a history together.

Pulling his jacket tighter against him, Alex pushed through the doors to Dawson Hall and walked into the crisp September evening. There were several students milling around the campus, which wasn't unusual for this time of day. He nodded to a couple of them and continued on to Miller Hall. He heard his phone beep in his pocket, indicating he had a new text message. Thinking it was Monica, he flipped it open and frowned in confusion when he saw the screen. It was frozen on the timeofdeath website, only instead of saying 2045, his death date now read 2007.

"What the hell?" He closed the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, blaming it on a malfunction. He'd been running into a lot of problems with his cell phone company lately, what with bad reception and missed messages, and this was only one more thing to add to the list. _I'm definitely going to have to give them a call in the morning, tell them where they can shove this phone._

He continued on his way, blocking out everything until he heard a twig snap behind him. He slowed his pace, darting his eyes behind him. At first he didn't see anything, but suddenly a figure started to materialize behind him. He stopped walking, turned around and saw a man in tattered clothing wearing a faded black trench coat approaching him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your time of death has come…"

"Okay, I think you missed your turn back at the loony bin there, dude." Alex began walking again, shaking off his initial fear. It was just some ya-ya getting his kicks by freaking out anyone he could get to. Well, it wasn't going to be him—it took a helluva lot more to scare Alex Chapman.

Alex continued on his way, keeping his head down against the wind that was starting to bite through his clothing. Shivering slightly, he was brought to a halt as the figured appeared against him, this time in front of him.

"Your time of death has come…"

"Dude, stay the hell away from me."

"Your time of death has come…" The figure reached a hand towards him.

Alex finally had enough with this freak. The only thing he wanted to do was to get to Monica and hole up with her for the rest of the night. If he could just get to her, he could put this little fiasco behind him. He quickly sidestepped the guy and darted past him, running as fast as he could.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You really think this website might have something to do with Abby's death?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked the door to the Impala.

"I don't know, Sam. But it does seem pretty weird that this website predicted her death and she died the exact way it said she would."

"We need to talk to those other students."

"Tomorrow…there's nothing else we can really do tonight besides piss people off. I say we grab us a bite to eat and go get a feel of the nightlife Lincoln has to offer." Dean started to get into the car when a yell stopped him. He pulled himself out of the car and saw Sam had also stopped. "Did you hear that?"

Sam nodded when the yell sounded again.

"Help! Somebody get this freak away from me!"

The brothers looked behind them to see a guy sprinting across the courtyard towards Miller Hall. Just as the brothers were racing towards the guy, they heard the sound of a horn blaring. Sam looked up in time to see a bus driving down the road.

"Hey! Look out!" Sam yelled.

The guy didn't pay any attention as he ran in front of the bus. The brothers could only watch in horror as the bus hit the guy head on, leaving nothing but a bloody trail behind.


	4. Chapter 3

The pandemonium was still in full swing, even thirty minutes after the accident. Everyone was in a panic, not sure what was going on, but freaked out that a second student had been killed in as little as three days. Even though all signs pointed to another unfortunate accident, it didn't stop people from talking and it was starting to give Sam a headache. He was listening to a bunch of conversations, ranging from the kid must have been suicidal to the bus driver was homicidal. He didn't pay any attention to them, though.

He was leaning against the Impala, waiting for Dean to return. His brother had walked away ten minutes ago, after snagging a badge from the glove compartment, working his lies and charms on the local police. Sam wasn't sure it was the best idea, considering their current relationship with the police was rocky, at best. But Dean assured him everything would be fine and once his brother got his mind on something, there wasn't anything that could change it. It was all part of that damn stubborn Winchester pride, he supposed.

The young hunter wasn't really sure what to think about the case so far. The only clue he and Dean managed to get was the fact Abby had logged on to a website that predicted her death and someone was apparently chasing her, though no one else could see them. That alone made it remotely supernatural, but Abby could have thought she was just seeing things, and this could be nothing more than a simple coincidence. Sam had more important things to do, namely getting Dean out of his deal. And sitting around a college campus, investigating what appeared to be nothing more than an accidental death was not going to get Sam closer to an answer for Dean.

Torn away from his thoughts, Sam noticed Dean walking towards him. "Hey, did you find out anything?"

Dean's smile couldn't be bigger or cockier. "Dude, I'm friggin' Mulder or something."

Sam nodded. "Or something."

Dean glared at his brother. "Cute, Sammy."

Sam smiled as Dean leaned on the car next to him. "So, what did you find out, Agent Mulder?"

"The guy who is now currently decorating the grille of the bus was Alex Chapman, a twenty year old engineering student. Guess who he was on his way over to meet?"

Sam glanced behind Dean and saw a young woman being consoled by several students. "Monica."

"Exactly."

"So, this is the Alex she was talking about."

"That would be correct. And you'll never believe how the website said he was going to die."

Sam frowned. "Being hit by a bus."

"Two for two there, Einstein."

"What the hell is going on here, Dean?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother's remark.

"I don't know, man, but it keeps pointing to this damn website, that I know for sure." Dean let out a long sigh. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention…they found the guy's cell phone on him—"

"It survived that?" Sam asked, pointing towards the street where the bus was sitting.

Dean nodded. "You know, maybe we should take a look at it, see what kind of phone it is. God knows we go through enough of them with our line of work."

Sam was frustrated at his brother's endless jokes. "Dean, can you focus for one minute? What were you saying about his cell phone?"

"Apparently his screen was frozen on the time of death website."

"Frozen?"

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head, glancing out at the police and bystanders again. This just kept getting weirder and weirder, even for them. And they still really had nothing to go on, nothing to point them in the direction of who may responsible for this. The only thing that kept coming back and biting them in the ass was the stupid website, but Sam figured that was their only lead so far. "We need to take a look at that website, Dean."

Dean arched a brow. "What, and put our names on the list as well?"

"Do you have any other ideas?" Dean didn't answer him. "Dean, we've got to put a stop to this, before it gets any worse and more people die."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The ruckus at Rumor's Bar was almost too much for Sam to take, doing nothing to alleviate the young hunter's headache. Country music was blaring from the speakers and the patrons were making sure to make their voices be heard over the lyrics of Toby Keith's _I Love This Bar_, and he had to admit they were doing a pretty damn good job of doing that. He'd finally managed to get Dean to leave the scene of the accident a little over an hour ago, mainly because he was sure their luck was bound to run out with the police. While he was certain he and Dean weren't the top priority of Lincoln's finest, he knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them got curious and decided to check the brothers out. A short search and the officer would be hailed as a hero when he found out Sam and Dean was wanted in several states, not to mention by the FBI.

And again, Sam wasn't going to sit around and allow for them to be caught. It just wasn't going to happen.

When he convinced Dean to leave, he should have known his brother would seek out the closest bar to their motel. Sam wasn't about to argue with Dean and deny him his fun—he deserved it after all. Sam was determined to sit there, hidden in the back of the bar while Dean worked the crowd, hustling money from the poor working class saps. Then again, as Trace Adkins' _Honky Tonk Badonkadonk_ filled the air amongst the cheers of the crowd, Sam was seriously contemplating either jumping in front of traffic or hunting down the gargantuan country singer and performing an exorcism. He had to admit the latter idea was winning because anyone who could come up with those lyrics and sing that song had to be possessed.

Sam looked up from his laptop long enough to seek out his wayward brother. Spotting the spiky light brown hair, he saw Dean was standing next to the pool table, sizing up his next shot. He knew it was all for show because Dean could play pool and win in his sleep. He was doing his best to convince his opponent he didn't know shit about the sport, letting the man have a glimmer of hope that he may actually win. Sam never did understand why his brother had to make a big show about it, but he guessed he really couldn't complain. Dean was supplying them with the money they needed since they were being cautious with their credit card scams after the fiasco in Arkansas and Sam was grateful for it.

He kept his eyes glued on Dean as the older hunter sunk his shot in with a triumphant smile. Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the loser's look of utter defeat as he tossed his money onto the table in front of Dean. Dean quickly pocketed the money and grabbing his beer, made his way through the crowd to Sam.

"How much?"

Dean smiled. "Two hundred bucks."

"Slow night," Sam commented.

"Nah, I decided to take it easy on the fine drunk folks of Lincoln." He took a swig of his beer and flashed a smile at a scantily clad woman walking past their table.

"Do you have to flirt with every single female you lay eyes on?"

Dean turned serious eyes to his brother. "Yes."

Sam rolled his eyes. "So…back to the case. I was thinking—"

"That's never good," Dean interrupted, smirking.

"Bite me," Sam bit off. Dean chuckled as the young hunter continued. "The victims, Dean—what's been their connection so far?"

"Besides being students and logging on to the site?"

Sam nodded.

"Monica," the older man said without hesitation.

"Exactly."

"You think she might have something to do with these deaths?"

"I think it's possible."

"But how, Sam? We left her apartment right before Alex was hit by the bus and she said she was out with Alex when Abby was killed."

Sam arched a brow. "Who says she had to be anywhere near them?"

Dean cocked his head. "You think someone's doing her dirty work for her?"

"Someone…or something."

"It possible." Dean took another swig of his beer and frowned when he found the bottle empty. He started to signal the waitress for another one, but Sam stopped him.

"Let's get back to the motel, Dean. I want to check out that website."

"Can't it wait until after one more beer?"

Sam fixed him with a glare. "No—if I have to listen to one more damn country song, I swear to God I'm going to open fire in here."

Dean laughed at his brother's angry expression. "I'm going to pay a visit to the little boy's room. I'll meet you out at the car."

Sam let out a sigh, relieved Dean wasn't going to push it. Dean handed him the keys to the Impala as he made his way to the bathroom, and slipping on his jacket, Sam walked out into the chilly night. He almost made it to the car when his cell phone started to ring. Frowning in confusion, he plucked it out of his pocket before it could ring for the third time.

"Hello?"

"_Sam?" asked a timid voice._

"Yes…who is this?"

"_Oh, I'm sorry…this is Ruby—from the restaurant."_

Sam's eyes widened in recognition of the eccentric waitress from Buddy's Burgers. "Right…um, Ruby, how did you get my number?"

"_Oh, your friend gave it to me. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together some time."_

Friend…friend…_Dean!_ Sam felt his face growing warm as anger flushed his cheeks. This is why Dean came out of the diner smiling. Stupid jackass… "Listen, Ruby…"

"_Did I do something wrong?"_

"No, not at all. It's just I'm not in town anymore and my friend was just jerking you around." Sam cringed as the excuse sounded lame and hurtful to his ears. He didn't want to put her in this awkward position and hurt her feelings, but he couldn't lie to the woman either. Dean never should have done that to her and Sam was going to be sure to pay him back for it.

"_Oh…okay."_

"Ruby, it has nothing to do with you. I'm sure you're a sweet girl, but Dean was just being an ass."

"_Don't worry about it, Sam…I'll let you go."_

Sam heard the distinct sound of a click as Ruby disconnected the call. Sam let out a frustrated sigh as Dean sauntered out the door, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his face. His grin quickly turned into a frown as he saw the look of anger on Sam's face.

"What's wrong?"

"I just had a very interesting call, Dean."

"Oh, yeah? From who?"

"Ruby...from the restaurant," he added when he saw a look of confusion pass over Dean's face.

Dean smiled. "You're welcome."

Sam shook his head. "Why the hell would you do that, Dean?"

"I was just having a little fun," Dean complained.

"Fun? That's your idea of fun?"

Dean seemed to think about it before he answered with a smile. "Yeah."

"So help me, Dean…"

"Come on, Sammy, it was a joke."

"A joke?" Sam nodded as he got into the car. "I'll show you what a joke is."

Dean frowned as he slipped into the car beside Sam. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam felt a grin tug at his lips. "You'll know when it comes."

"Sammy, we're not going to start this again, are we?"

"Start what?" Sam asked innocently.

Dean flashed a cocky smile at his brother as he started the Impala. "Let the games begin…"

**Thanks for the reviews guys! **

**A big thanks to Bayre, my awesome beta!**

**Let me know what you think of this one and another update as soon as I can get it out!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys...If you didn't see the last chapter, I would read that one first before moving on to this one! As always, let me know what you think!!!**

**Many thanks to my awesome beta, Bayre...she rocks!!!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was still irritated with Dean when they got back to the motel, though his anger had ebbed somewhat. They had done this stupid prank war before and Sam was pretty certain Dean learned his lesson after having his hand glued to the beer bottle, but it would seem he was wrong. If Dean wanted to play dirty, then dammit, Sam Winchester could play dirty. After all, if you had Dean as a brother, it really was the only way to play since he was the one who taught Sam to fight dirty in the first place.

Sam had a vague idea of how he was going to repay Dean, he just needed to put his plan into action, which wasn't going to be entirely easy since Dean rarely liked Sam to go anywhere without him. The younger hunter could always make up some lame excuse, turn the puppy dog expression on and have Dean eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. He knew just how to work Dean to get exactly what he wanted.

But it had to wait until they took a look at the website—they had to put aside their childish petty games and focus on the case at hand. They had to put a stop to whatever it was before it escalated even further than two deaths. Sam wasn't about to allow those people to die in vain, so his personal vendetta against Dean could wait…for a bit, that is.

As soon as they entered the room, Sam went straight for his laptop which was lying on top of his duffel. He quickly powered it up and immediately saw he was picking up a strong wireless signal. Sure, it probably wasn't fair that he was stealing internet from other people, but he could deal with his guilty conscience later. He had work to do and if he had to use a small amount of thievery to do it, then so be it.

The younger Winchester found the website within a few seconds. "I got it."

Dean shrugged out of his leather jacket and came to sit beside Sam on the bed. "It doesn't look like much…looks cheesy if you ask me."

Sam had to agree with his older brother. The site wasn't much to brag about at all. With a deep red background and a couple of skulls superimposed with clocks for the banner and a small questionnaire under that, the site ranked right up there with amateur hour. Sam wasn't that savvy with web designs, but he was more than sure he could do something completely better than what he was looking at now.

"How can people be interested in something that looks like that?" Dean asked, slightly annoyed.

"They just log on for fun, Dean," Sam said as he studied the site.

"Fun?" Dean scoffed. "That's not fun, Sammy. This site is for people who have not discovered the wonderful thing known as internet porn…like you. You would have fun on this site."

"Does everything have to be about porn and sex with you?"

Dean seemed to consider that. "No…I also like food and good alcohol."

"Whatever." Sam frowned. "You know, I don't get it…how can a site like this be haunted?"

"Who says it is haunted?"

"What else could it be?"

"Sam, I'll admit we've seen some pretty bizarre things in our line of work, but these deaths can be explained naturally." He held up his hand and began ticking off fingers as he continued. "Abby fell down the stairs—an accident that occurs almost daily. Alex wasn't paying attention and got creamed by a bus—another accident, though not as common."

"So, you don't think something supernatural can be happening here?" Sam asked in disbelief. Sometimes he just didn't understand Dean and his brain—his older brother had always been less skeptical than he was and yet here he was writing this case off as nothing more than mere accidents. But Sam couldn't overlook a simple fact. "What about Abby seeing someone chasing her?"

"You heard what Monica said—she'd been stressed lately and that can cause a person to see things. And as far as we know, Alex didn't see anyone chasing him."

"Did you ask around?"

"I was talking with the cops, Sammy, and as far as they know, his death was just an accident."

"Maybe we need to go back to the campus tomorrow and see if there are any witnesses."

"Why are you so desperate to find a case here, Sam?"

"I'm not, but if there is something supernatural going on, I want to know what." Sam frowned at his brother. "Why are you so anxious to write this one off?"

"I just don't see how this is our kind of thing, Sam, and I don't want to waste what time I have left chasing bogus cases."

Dean had finally said it—he'd finally said something Sam was waiting for him to admit. Sam had had his suspicions and Dean just confirmed them. The younger man had suspected Dean took this case to appease him, to make him happy. He was willing to go along with anything Sam wanted to do these days and Sam wasn't liking it one bit. It was another one of those subtle changes he'd noticed in Dean within the last few days. The older hunter seemed content these days, allowing Sam to have or do anything he wanted and Sam couldn't stand that. It was almost as if Dean was giving up though he wasn't doing it outright and it scared Sam to death.

"Dean—"

"Just forget I said anything, Sammy. We'll go back to the college tomorrow and see if we can find anything else." His voice, though it was soft, signaled there would be no further argument about it.

Sam pushed the laptop off his legs and setting it down next to Dean, he grabbed up his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked as Sam slipped the jacket on.

"I'm gonna run down to the store—grab some beers."

Dean started to rise from the bed. "Wait—I'll come with you."

"No, it's okay…it's just up the road. I'll be back in no time." He grabbed the keys to the Impala and slipped out the door before Dean could offer any additional arguments.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As he drove towards the store, Sam had to admit he was a little confused and worried about Dean's behavior. It wasn't everyday his brother was one to shoot down a hunt and he understood there were extenuating circumstances what with the deal he made and all, but Dean was usually one to go into these cases with an open mind. Sam remembered Dean referring to him as Scully at one time, while he considered himself Mulder and Sam had to agree with that comparison. Dean was always one to hear every aspect of a hunt, no matter how crazy it may sound while Sam needed the research and proof to back it up.

At the same time, Sam could understand where his brother was coming from. He didn't want to waste what little time he had left, though Sam refused to think of it like that. The younger hunter wasn't looking at the calendar counting down Dean's days because as far as he was concerned, Dean had all the time in the world. If he began to think of it like that, Sam knew he wouldn't be able to stay strong for Dean and his brother needed him now more than ever. Sam was going to be his rock, be the one thing Dean could count on right now, never wavering.

As he pulled into the twenty-four hour grocery, Sam was glad he'd convinced Dean to stay at the motel. While he was going there to get them a six-pack, he also needed to get what he would need to pay Dean back for his prank at the restaurant. A smile lit up the younger hunter's face as he closed the door to the Impala and walked determinedly into the store. While Sam knew Dean was going to be more than a little pissed at him, it also didn't really bother him that much. Dean wanted to have a little fun, then Sam was going to have a little fun as well.

Sam gave a wave to the lone cashier as he walked briskly towards the cooler section to grab a pack of Coors. Tucking it under his arm, he strode towards the hair products, silently praying they had what he was looking for. Quickly perusing the selection, his eyes lit up as he found what he wanted. Snatching it from the shelf, he could hardly contain his excitement as he brought his purchases up to the cashier.

As the young woman swiped the box across the scanner, she looked up at the younger Winchester, confusion written all over her freckled face. Sam merely shrugged and offered a small smile, which the woman returned with a pop of her gum. Sam paid for his merchandise, grabbed up his bag, and got into the Impala, his plan quickly formulating in his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean didn't know why he let Sam know the truth about how he felt about the case. He didn't want to do that but he just couldn't see spending his time on a continuous wild goose chase. There were other things—fun things—they could be doing, things they never got to do growing up in their father's shadow. They could just be somewhat normal for once, getting out there and seeing the sights instead of the nightmares. He knew they had work to do with the release of the two hundred plus demons from Hell, but there was no reason why they couldn't just get out there and live a little.

Live…that was becoming a funny word for the older Winchester. For the past twenty-three years, he'd had one reason to live—Sam. And when that was taken away from him in a blink of an eye by Jake, Dean didn't have that reason to live anymore. There was only one person who deserved to live and he was dead. So Dean did what he had to do to ensure Sam continued to live. Looking back, the older man knew he would do the same thing again, if it meant his brother would have another chance at a life.

Maybe Dean was doing wrong humoring Sam by agreeing to work on this hunt. Sam deserved more than that and he was only trying to help Dean by going on these hunts in the first place. Dean knew Sam would rather be working on a way to get him out of his deal more than anything else. He was just bringing up a hunt because he figured that's what Dean wanted to do. Dean knew he needed to be honest with his younger brother, to let him know what he wanted, but honestly, he didn't want to bring the kid down. Sam didn't deserve that and Dean wasn't about to do it to him.

So he would focus on other things—their current hunt, though he didn't believe anything supernatural was going on, and the little prank war he'd instigated. He knew Sam was going to get him back, it was only a matter of time. The younger Winchester may look trusting and innocent on the outside, but on the inside he could be just as bad and deceiving as his older sibling. After the stunt with the beer bottle, Dean knew his brother could hold his own and he was even a little proud of Sam for it. It was almost as if Sam had taken a page right out of the patented Dean Winchester handbook.

Dean sighed and let his bored gaze roam around the room, searching for anything that may catch his eye. Spotting Sam's laptop still open on his bed, he pulled it towards him seeing the screen was still on the time of death website. The older Winchester didn't believe for one second the site was haunted, but it kind of freaked him out, just the same. After all, how was it a seemingly harmless website could predict a person's death? Dean already had that done for him, thank you very much.

Then again, a tiny gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach couldn't help but wonder if maybe it were true, maybe there was something with the site making these deaths come true. Since he'd already disputed the fact it was haunted, what if someone or something was controlling the website?

As he stared at the site, the skulls in the corners seemed to mock him, as if daring him to complete the questionnaire. He couldn't help but be a little intrigued by it, just as he knew Sam was. Without even thinking, Dean typed in his information and submitted it. He knew why he was doing it—he was covering his ass in case he was wrong about it, in case Sam signed on and did the same thing, making him a target for death. Dean wasn't willing to put his younger brother in the line of fire, so he would do it before Sam got the chance.

Sam would be pissed about it, but he would get over it just the same. Dean already lost him once and he wasn't about to do it again—he couldn't. Watching Sam die in his arms a couple of weeks ago destroyed him, made him actually consider bowing out of the game himself, ending it all. Sam may consider his behavior reckless, but again, he would just have to get over it. It was Dean's job to protect Sam, shield him from the evil in the world, and he would continue to do so until his dying breath.

A beep signaled Dean his results were back. Letting out a deep breath, Dean clicked the CONTINUE button and his results popped up. The countdown read "11 months…2 weeks…5 days until the gates of Hell swallow you whole," which for some strange reason didn't surprise him. Maybe he was hoping for a miracle, that Sam's death and the deal had been nothing more than a bad dream. But there it was taunting him, clear as day.

It seemed to Dean everyone had his name as of late. But he supposed that was the life and curse of being a Winchester—when it rains, it really does pour.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What took you so long?" Dean grumbled when Sam walked back into the motel room.

Sam frowned as he threw the keys onto the small table. "Dude, I was only gone for fifteen minutes."

"Seemed longer to me."

"Are you PMSing or something?" He shoved the beers at his brother.

"No, that would be you." Dean grabbed one of the beers, popped the top, and took a long swig.

Sam shrugged off his jacket and threw it on his bed. Rifling through his duffel, he pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

"Whatever."

Sam rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom without a second glance at his brother. Dean was in one of his moods and it was just better to leave him be and not offer up any arguments.

Turning on the shower to provide some noise, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a long slender tube. Smiling, he twisted the cap and spying Dean's shampoo, quickly squirted the contents into the silver plastic bottle. Placing the shampoo exactly as he found it, Sam quickly undressed and jumped into the shower.

As Sam lathered his body with soap he had only one thought—the proverbial shit was definitely going to hit the fan come tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys! We now move to what you've been waiting for--Sam's prank!**

**Many thanks to Bayre, my awesome beta!**

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When Dean awoke the next morning, his outlook on life hadn't improved since the night before. He still felt rather irritated but at the same time, he wasn't entirely too sure what he was irritated with. Maybe it was the sunshine that was managing to penetrate through the ratty sky blue curtains or maybe it was the fact Sam was walking through the motel room, not being mindful of his brother who was trying his best to sleep. Whatever it was, it was grating on the older Winchester's nerves.

"Dude, what the hell are you moving around for?"

"I'm getting dressed so I can go get us some coffee," Sam said, calmly. "Have you seen my shoes?"

"Do I look like your friggin' maid?" Dean grumbled, dropping his head onto the pillow once more. "What time is it?"

"Uh…seven-thirty."

Dean closed his eyes. "You have seriously got to learn not to wake up as soon as the sun makes its presence known."

"I don't always wake up early, Dean."

"Yeah? Name one day within the last year," Dean challenged.

"I'm not going to have this stupid argument with you, Dean. Not when you're acting like this."

"Like what?" Dean opened one eye to see his brother had found his shoes and was slipping them on.

"We need to get an early start and head over to the college." Sam stood up and grabbed the keys from the table. "Go grab a shower and I'll be back by the time you're finished, with breakfast and coffee."

"You do know the campus is still going to be there no matter what time we get there, right?"

Sam sighed and glared at him. "Dean, will you just humor me? For once?"

"Fine…go." Dean waved him away and heard the door close behind his brother. Letting out a frustrated groan, Dean pushed himself up from the bed, taking the time to stretch his body which had become stiff sleeping on the uncomfortable mattress. Hearing his back and neck pop several times, he clamored to his feet and reached beside his bed for his duffel. Finding a clean pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, he made his way into the bathroom.

Dean made the shower as hot as he could stand, which was pretty damn near scalding. Quickly undressing, he stepped into the piping shower, allowing the water to beat a steady rhythm against his body. He stood like that for a few minutes, allowing his muscles and joints to unknot under the soothing pressure of the water. One thing Dean could say was the motel may be cheap and not much to look at, but the shower more than made up for it. He felt as if he had stepped into one of those massaging showers and if it were up to him, he'd never leave.

Knowing Sam would come barreling through the door if he didn't hurry, though, Dean scooped up his bottle of shampoo, paying no attention to the slight pinkish blob that fell into his hands. He rubbed his hands together, quickly lathered his head until he was satisfied and rinsed it out. He also made quick work of lathering his body with soap and was out of the shower within seven minutes.

Reaching out a hand, Dean grabbed a towel from the rack and used it to dry off his body. He grabbed his boxers and jeans and slipped them on just as he heard the door to the motel room open. "Sam, is that you?"

"Yeah!"

Dean picked up another towel and used it to dry his hair. He frowned when, bringing the towel away from his head, he noticed the slight hue of pink. "What the…" He didn't know where the pink had come from…it couldn't be from his shampoo because he'd been using the same product for a couple years now. Maybe it was a stain on the towel or something…

Then another thought hit Dean and he growled in frustration. Picking up his bottle of shampoo, he squirted the contents into his hand and gritted his teeth when he noticed what color it was. "He didn't…" Dean didn't waste another second as he wiped away the condensation from the small mirror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight that greeted him.

His hair was pink…friggin' cotton candy pink…Barbie doll-cotton candy-Pepto Bismol-pink. He looked like a damned Easter egg!

"SAM!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam choked on his coffee as he heard Dean's panicked, anger filled voice screaming his name. A few seconds later, the bathroom door was ripped open and there stood a very furious, pink-haired Dean.

Sam finally caught his breath after nearly coughing up a lung, his face neutral. "Dean, you do know your hair is…"

"Pink?" Dean growled. "Yeah, I had a pretty damn good idea when I looked in the mirror. Want to tell me how the hell my hair turned pink?"

Sam shrugged casually, innocence written on his face. "Maybe it was a bad bottle of shampoo or the water or something."

"I've had that same bottle of shampoo for a couple of weeks now. It's not bad, so do you want to try again?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, studying his brother. "You know, Dean…pink really is a good color on you."

"Sam…"

Sam went on as if he didn't hear him. "No, seriously. Most men couldn't pull it off, but you do it very well."

"SAM!"

"Dean, I don't know what to tell you." Sam took a long sip from his coffee if nothing more to cover up the smile trying to fight its way through. To say that Dean was officially pissed was a major understatement at this point. Sam could see it was taking him everything to control the rage building up inside.

"You don't know what to tell me?" Dean laughed, but it held no humor. "My hair is god damned pink, Sam!"

"All I can suggest is for you to start checking your shampoo before you use it." Sam got up from his chair and grabbed a plastic bag from his bed. He held it out to Dean. "You might want to open this."

Dean glared at Sam but grabbed the bag and looked inside. "A hat? This is your solution to this problem?"

"Well, it's either that or shave your head, but even if you do shave your head, the pink will still show through."

Dean nodded, a tight smile on his face. "You think you've gotten me back, don't you?"

"I think it's a pretty good start," Sam admitted.

"This is nothing, Sammy." He took the bag into the bathroom. "Just you wait and see, little brother."

"Whatever you say, Barbie." Sam laughed as Dean flashed him the finger out of the bathroom door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You couldn't find me a better hat than this?" Dean grumbled as he stepped out of the Impala. He'd managed to remain silent on the ride to the campus, mainly because all he could think about was the pink hair. How the hell had Sam managed to pull that one off? When did Sam become so good with these pranks? Dean knew he should be mad at Sam, but dammit, if he wasn't impressed—the kid certainly knew how to play dirty. In his entire arsenal of pranks and dirty tricks, never in a million years would Dean ever think to put hair dye in a bottle of shampoo. It was so easy and so damn clever, Dean couldn't believe he'd never thought of it himself.

Sam got out of the car and followed Dean up the walk. "This is Lincoln, Dean, and I went to a convenience store for the coffee and donuts. They didn't have much of a selection."

"I'm pretty sure they had something better than a John Deere Green hat."

"Well, there was another hat that said, 'Help, I've fallen and I can't reach my beer'," Sam admitted.

"Now that one sounds more like me. Why didn't get that one?"

"Maybe you don't see how this prank thing works, Dean." Sam smiled. "It's supposed to be embarrassing."

"I'm not embarrassed," Dean said unconvincingly.

"Right."

"Let's just go get this over with." Dean led the way towards Dawson Hall where they were to meet up with Ben Givens. Sam had called Monica before they left and she told him Ben was the last person to see Alex before he was killed. The brothers were pretty certain Ben didn't see anything, but it never hurt to be sure.

Stopping in front of dorm room 102, Dean knocked. Soon, the door was answered by a guy dressed in a pair of jeans, a light blue polo, with perfectly groomed dirty blonde hair. "What do you want?"

Dean smiled. "Good morning to you, too."

"Screw you." Ben began to close the door but Dean put his foot out to stop it. "Dude, back off."

"We just want to talk to you, Ben," Dean said.

"Who are you?"

"We're reporters for The Lincoln Star." Sam stepped up to position himself in front of Dean. "We just need five minutes."

Ben looked at Sam and then to Dean, frowning in confusion when he saw Dean's hat. "You're reporters…seriously?"

"Bad hair day," Dean answered with a pointed glare at Sam.

The younger hunter ignored his brother. "Can we come in?"

Ben let out a long sigh, but finally allowed the brothers to come in. As they walked into the apartment, Dean cuffed Sam on the back of his head. Sam turned to shoot a scathing look at Dean and offered a smile to Ben, who was watching the exchange, confusion all over his face. "So…you guys want anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Sam said before Dean could have a chance to respond. They opted to remain standing as Ben took a seat on the black leather recliner. "We understand you were the last person to see Alex before he was killed."

"Yeah, he was over here playing some video games and then he left to go check on Monica."

"About what time was this?" Dean asked.

"Uh…I guess around five."

"How did Alex seem to you before he left?" Sam asked.

"He seemed fine. Why?"

"Was he acting strange? Seeing things?" Dean asked.

"No, nothing. He was totally fine. What the hell is this about?"

Dean decided to try another approach since this was getting them nowhere. "You knew Abby Sinclair, didn't you?"

"Okay, I really think it's time the two of you left." Ben stood up and walked towards the door.

Dean refused to budge. "It just seems a little strange to us that two of your friends have had some unfortunate accidents in the past few days."

Ben stopped in front of the door. "So, what? You think I have something to do with this?"

"You tell us." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, as if challenging Ben. He wasn't about to let this cocky bastard give them the run around.

"Yes, okay, they were my friends, but I swear to you I had nothing to do with their deaths. As far as I'm concerned, they were both accidents, nothing more."

"Monica told us the four of you logged onto a website right before Abby died," Sam said.

"Is that what this is about? That stupid-ass site?" Ben laughed, shaking his head. "Monica likes to overreact to things."

"So, you don't think it's a little strange that this site predicted Abby and Alex's deaths and it happened exactly as the site said it would?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, I don't. We…We just went on that site for fun, okay? We were bored, it was a cheap thrill."

"Then why is everyone in your group of friends dying?" Sam asked softly.

Ben's shoulder slumped, almost as if he'd been deflated. "I don't know."

"We know this sounds crazy, because hell, I'm having a hard time believing it myself," Dean admitted. "We just thought you should know, keep an eye out for yourself."

Ben sighed. "There is something about Alex…"

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"When he left here, I heard him yelling, so I looked out my window. I can see Miller Hall all the way from here and I saw him running…as if he were running away from something."

"Something? Or someone?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I looked out the window to see what was going on, but there was nothing after him."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. My eyes aren't the best, but I think I could see if there was someone following him." Ben reached for the knob and opened the door for the Winchesters.

"Thanks for talking to us, Ben," Sam said as he passed Ben and walked out into the hallway.

Ben nodded, but didn't say anything.

Dean made to follow Sam but stopped before Ben could close the door. "Hey, Ben, mind if I ask you one more question?"

"Sure, why not?"

"How did the site say you were going to die?"

Ben actually smiled. "The only way I would want to—in the arms of a beautiful woman."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Monica Sellers was having a pretty crappy week, simply put. It was bad enough to lose one friend, but to lose two of them in a matter of days was almost too much for the petite auburn haired girl to take. She was so tired of crying, so tired of feeling down and miserable. So she came up with a solution—it was a simple one, really. One that always provided that therapeutic release for her.

Shopping.

It always calmed her mind and took her away from the real world. She'd always been good at it, her father told her so. Of course, he would know since it was his money she was burning. But her father didn't mind. After all, she was Daddy's little girl and Vernon Sellers would do and give anything for his little girl. That included a no-limit platinum Master Card just itching to make some purchases.

Stepping out of her Porsche, Monica knew exactly which store she was hitting first. Loafer's was the finest shoe store in all of Lincoln and Monica was determined not to spend less than a thousand dollars there today. It wouldn't be entirely difficult—Monica always found what she was looking for. It didn't matter if she needed the shoes or not or if she would even wear them—they were merely serving a purpose.

Pushing through the door, Monica smiled at the cute red headed salesmen standing behind the cash register. He quickly extricated himself from the large wooden desk and was in front of her, beaming a mega-watt smile in a matter of seconds.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I certainly hope so." Monica brought up her hand and lightly brushed his cheek with her finger. "I plan on spending a lot of money here, so why don't you be a doll and grab me one of everything…size six-and-a-half. Oh, and my name is Monica." She almost laughed at the way the salesman paled when she mentioned she was going to spend a lot of money…_probably planning his Jamaican cruise as we speak…_

"My name is Chad. I'll be right back with your shoes, Monica."

"No hurry," Monica waved him off and he scampered to the back room. Turning around, Monica began to peruse the shelves looking at the many styles of wedges, heels, boots, and sandals that lined the perimeter of the store. She was already starting to feel better and she hadn't even tried any shoes on yet.

Monica was so wrapped up in her shoe browsing, at first she didn't notice the figure of a man materializing in the corner of her eye. Thinking it was Chad, the overeager salesman, she turned around, a smile plastered on her face. The smile quickly disappeared and was replaced by a puzzled frown. "If you're waiting for Chad, he'll be right back."

The man shook his head and raised a hand to point a finger at her. "Your time of death has come."

"Excuse me?" Surely she didn't hear him right.

"Your time of death has come," he said in the same monotone.

"Chad, can you come out here?" Monica didn't get freaked easily, but this guy was quickly getting her that way. Maybe he was some transient or homeless guy…

"Yeah, Monica, did you need something else?" Chad poked his head out the back room.

"Should this guy be in here?" she asked, nodding her head towards the man.

Chad looked at her confused. "What man?"

"You've got to be kidding me." Monica turned to look at Chad, waving her hand at the man. "This man, standing not even three feet away from me."

Chad shook his head. "Monica, you're the only one in here." He entered the back room again.

Monica let out an irritated sigh, but when she looked in front of her, the man was gone. "Maybe I was seeing things…" Laughing at herself, Monica glanced up at the television that was mounted to a wall in the far right corner near the cash register. It was showing the local news until the screen went black. It only lasted for a few seconds, but when the screen came back instead of the news, it was now showing the timeofdeath website. Monica stepped closer to the screen and her breath caught in her throat when she saw it was showing her death.

"Okay, I know I'm not imagining that." Monica stepped back from the television, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. All of a sudden she felt a trembling all around her and watched as shoes began to crash to the floor. An earthquake in freakin' Nebraska! _This is why I left California!_

Knowing she needed to find a strong doorframe to seek some kind of shelter, Monica clamored her way through the shoes, trying to head for the back room. In her anxiousness, she lost her balance and toppled to the ground.

Monica barely felt the stiletto heel going through her temple.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews! Here is the next chapter so please let me know what you think!**

**Many thanks to Bayre, my awesome beta!**

**Enjoy!**

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When the Winchesters left the campus, Dean only had one thing on his mind. Find the nearest drug store and replenish his shampoo supply since he sure as hell wasn't going to use what he had at the motel. Dean guided the Impala down the store lined streets and found what he was looking for about two blocks from their motel. He put the car in PARK and made to get out when Sam stopped him.

"Wait, are you sure you want to go in there like that?" Sam pointed at his head.

"I sure as hell ain't gonna let you go in there for me. My luck, you'll add Preparation H to it."

Sam seemed to consider that. "I wonder what that would do."

Dean glared at him. "Stay away from my shampoo, bitch." He was out of the car before Sam could say anything else. Dean was irritated he even gave his brother the idea. Knowing Sam, the kid _would_ do it just to see what happened. Well, not this time…Dean wasn't going to let Sammy make a fool out of him for a second time.

It took Dean only a couple of minutes to find what he was looking for. He quickly paid for his purchase and went back out to the car where Sam was fiddling with his cell phone.

"That was fast," the younger hunter commented.

"I'm not a girl like you," Dean answered. "I go in there, I get what I want, and I get out."

"You know, that girl comment is getting very old. Sing a new song already."

"Sorry, haven't learned to words to a new one yet, Samantha." Dean smiled as he saw Sam roll his eyes.

Sam put away his cell phone away. "I was thinking we could stop for some lunch before we head back to the motel."

Dean shook his head as he pulled out onto the street. "I've got a better idea—you go grab us some lunch while I try to get this damn dye out of my hair." Dean frowned as he heard Sam try to cover up his chuckle with a cough. "You know, it's not that funny anymore."

"Really? You want to tell me why I keep laughing then?"

"Because you're a jackass," Dean muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel. He got out of the car, grabbed his shampoo, and walked towards their room.

"Hey, Dean…check this out."

"What?" Dean looked over to see Sam had his cell phone out once again and it was pointed at him. Before Dean could react, Sam snapped a picture of him. He tried to grab the phone away from his kid brother, but Sam held it out of reach. "Give me the damn phone, Sam."

Sam laughed as he continued to hold the phone away from Dean. "Oh, this is so becoming my new wallpaper."

"Do whatever the hell you want, Sam," Dean muttered as he gave up the battle and threw the keys at his brother. "Go get us some lunch."

Sam managed to catch the keys and began to walk to the driver's side. "Hey, Dean, you might want to pay attention to the directions on that bottle…lather, rinse, repeat."

"Son of a bitch." Dean walked into their room without a second glance at Sam.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Screw what the bottle said.

Dean washed his hair about ten times and the pink was still bright as ever, with no signs of fading. Whatever it was Sam used certainly worked well and it was then Dean prayed it wasn't permanent. Of course, with his luck as of late, it really wouldn't surprise him. He could just imagine the reaction at Hell's Gates when his time came and he entered with his bright pink hair—amused, with a hint of confusion.

Just as the older hunter was slipping on his blue jeans, he felt a tremble all around him. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but that quickly changed when he noticed things falling to the floor. Just because he was from the Midwest didn't mean Dean didn't know what was happening—it was an earthquake—and if he had to be honest with himself, it was something he thought he'd never experience in his life. As he sought shelter in the doorway of the bathroom, Dean figured it was now one thing he could cross off his "to do" list.

The earthquake only lasted for a few seconds, but to Dean it seemed like a lifetime. It was something he couldn't control, something he couldn't fight off and he didn't like that, not one bit at all. When he was pretty sure it was over, he carefully stepped away from the doorway and went into the bedroom. Looking around, he saw there wasn't much damage, that it could have been a lot worse. As it was, only small items were displaced from their positions—the alarm clock, a few odds and ends sitting on the small table, the telephone, and Sam's laptop which thankfully landed on his duffel. At least he wouldn't have to deal with an irritated Sam—

_SAM!_

Dean wildly searched the room for his cell phone. In his confusion over the earthquake, he'd forgotten about Sam—Sam out there alone, driving around during a friggin' earthquake! He found his phone under the corner of his bed. Plucking it up, he quickly dialed Sam's number but was only met with his brother's voicemail. _"This is Sam…leave me a message."_

"Damn it!" Dean muttered as he hung up and tried Sam's number again. Still he was met with the same results. Dean tried it another few times but the end result was always the same. _Where the hell could Sam be? Why the hell wasn't he answering his damn phone? Is he hurt? Trapped? Why did I let him go out alone? Why did I have to be so pissed at him before he left? Why can't I swallow my damn pride and leave things be? Why do I always have to be such an ass to the kid? Why? Why? Why?_

Growling in frustration, Dean threw the phone on his bed. He had to go look for Sam, make sure the kid was alright. But wait…Sam had the damn car! Could this day possibly get any worse? "Wait, don't answer that," he said, glancing up at the ceiling.

Just as Dean was considering calling the National Guard and anyone else he could manage to get a hold of, he heard the rumble of the Impala's V8 engine. Dean practically tore the door open as he rushed out to Sam who was just getting out of the car.

"If I knew you were going to run out here and greet me, I would have brought flowers," Sam said as he grabbed a large plastic bag from the passenger seat.

Dean ignored his comment. "Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?"

"I didn't hear it ring." Sam shut the door and walked into the motel, Dean on his heels.

"What do you mean you didn't hear it ring?" Dean followed Sam as he set the bag on the small table. "What, you had your girly music up too loud?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone. "Dude, you seriously called me twelve times?"

"Sammy, dammit! I was worried, okay? In case you didn't notice, there was an earthquake."

"That?" Sam shook his head. "Dean, that was nothing…I've been through worse while I was at Stanford. Today's was nothing more than a tiny tremble."

"Not to me." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "That was the first one I'd ever been through, Sam, and I was freaked, okay? You weren't here and then I couldn't get a hold of you on the phone, and I got scared…" Dean's voice trailed off.

Sam looked at his brother, concerned. "Dean, I'm okay…nothing happened to me. What about you…are you okay?"

Dean looked at Sam and nodded. "Yeah, Sammy. I'm okay." He then let out a chuckle. What in the world was he doing freaking out on Sam like this? He knew better than that, he wasn't supposed to do that…that was Sam's area of expertise. But the fact Dean could react like that made him realize maybe he wasn't as tough as nails as he liked for people to believe. At least, not when it came to Sam. His kid brother had this knack for reducing him to nothing more than a small child and that scared Dean to death. "So, what did you get for us to eat?"

Sam smiled. "I figured I would be nice…burgers, fries." Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a small Styrofoam box with a flourish. "And I couldn't forget the pie."

Dean finally smiled for the first time since Sam got back. "I love me some pie."

The brothers ate in comfortable silence as they watched the local news for any information on the earthquake.

"Hey, Dean…turn it up," Sam said as he noticed a reporter standing on the street in front of a store.

Dean shot his brother an irritated look, but did as he was told. He went back to his blueberry pie, smirking at his brother's intensity as he listened to the report.

"_Authorities have just confirmed the first death as a result of today's minor earthquake. A young woman was killed behind me here, at Loafer's as she was shopping. The authorities are not releasing details of her death as of yet, nor are they releasing her name. More details will be made available as soon as it is released. Marla, back to you…"_

"Thought you said the earthquake wasn't bad," Dean said, glancing at his brother.

Sam got up from his chair and threw away his trash. "We need to go down there."

"What? Why?" Dean asked, confused.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I just have a feeling."

"What, like a vision kind of feeling?" Dean asked, concerned. Sam hadn't had a vision in weeks, not since Dean killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon. They both figured they would be gone now, that Sam would be free of them. At least, that's what Dean was hoping. He couldn't stand to see Sam suffer from them, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his kid brother. But if they were back, it only meant something else they would have to deal with, something else to add to their never-ending list.

But Sam was shaking his head. "No, not a vision…just a feeling."

Dean knew better than to go against Sam's feelings or instincts. Finishing up his last bite of pie, Dean threw his containers away and grabbed up his keys. "Let's get going, then."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, the Winchesters were walking up to Loafer's, having had to park the Impala several blocks away. It wasn't such a bad idea, Sam figured, since their car stuck out like a sore thumb. Sure they were using fake plates now, but it was better being safe than sorry. With the police out in full force, their car would be easily recognizable, and again, Sam wasn't about to let his brother get arrested and thrown in jail for the rest of his life…however long that may be.

"It doesn't look too bad out here," Dean commented as they approached a small crowd gathered around the store. There was yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the store from the curious onlookers and a deputy was posted near the entrance to keep everyone out. A black coroner van was off to the side, it's lights flashing red and blue.

"They're lucky. It could have been much worse," Sam said as he took in the scene around him. Dean was right—there wasn't too much damage. Newspaper kiosks and post office bins were turned over on their sides. The sidewalks were cracked in several places and small debris lines the streets and sidewalks on either side. A few storefronts' windows were cracked and even a couple were shattered, but in all honesty this was nothing significant in Sam's eyes.

"Don't you think it's a little weird, though?" Dean asked.

"What's that?"

"An earthquake here, in Nebraska."

Sam shrugged. "Not really. I mean, it's not common, but there are documented cases of earthquakes happening here before."

Dean shook his head. "God, you are such a geek."

Sam ignored his brother as his eyes caught a familiar face. He nudged Dean with his elbow. "Hey, Dean…there's Ben."

Dean turned his head to see the young blonde man standing off to the side. "I wonder what he's doing here."

"Let's go find out."

The brothers walked over to the student, who was watching the scene with interest.

"Ben!" Sam called.

The blonde looked up, slightly startled to see the Winchesters there. "What are you doing here?"

Dean chuckled. "What do you know? We were going to ask you the same thing."

Ben nodded towards the store. "It was Monica."

"What was Monica?" Sam asked.

"The woman who was killed…it was Monica," Ben said. He seemed to be in shock.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"It's crazy…" Ben was shaking his head. "They said that she tripped and…" Ben chuckled ruefully.

"What did they say, Ben?" Sam asked gently.

"She landed on a shoe—went right through her temple. She died just like that damn site said she would…"

"That death site said that?" Dean asked, making sure he heard right.

"Yeah."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam. "Ben, do you happen to know who runs this site?"

Ben turned his attention to the doorway where Monica's body was being wheeled out on a gurney. "Wally Anderson."


	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Bayre!**

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It didn't take the Winchesters long to find Wally Anderson, even though Ben didn't know where he lived. One flaw of campus living was that it was entirely too easy to find out where a student lived in the Student Directory. Sam only needed to get on-line, type in Wally's name and they found out he lived in an off-campus apartment. Dean pulled the Impala into the small parking lot and they were knocking on the door within a couple of minutes.

"So, you think this guy will know anything?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged as the door opened and a slightly overweight guy with black curly hair peered at them through a pair of thick, black glasses. "Who are you?"

"Wally Anderson?" Sam asked, smiling.

Wally didn't return the smile. "Who wants to know?"

"My name is Sam and this is my partner, Dean. We're reporters from the _Lincoln Star_. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"We're doing a story on local websites and yours came highly recommended," Sam lied easily.

"Oh." Wally glanced behind him and then back to the brothers. "Now really isn't a good time, guys."

"It won't take long at all," Dean said quickly when it looked like Wally was going to close the door on them.

Wally hesitated, but finally relented. "All right…but I only have about five minutes."

"That's all we need." Dean smiled as he passed Wally into the apartment, Sam following right behind him.

To say that Wally's small apartment was a shrine to geeks everywhere would be a major understatement. Framed Star Trek and Lord of the Rings posters lined each wall and computer equipment, including several computers, printers, cameras, and a few hard drives covered every available surface area. Sam saw many figurines lined the shelves ranging anywhere from Harry Potter to Star Wars. Yep, this guy was definitely a geek. No way could Dean ever call Sam a geek again.

"You like computers, Wally?" Dean asked, eyes roaming around the apartment.

"It's sort of a hobby of mine," Wally said, anxiously. "I also repair them in my spare time."

"Not a bad talent to have," Sam said.

"No, I guess not." Wally moved over to a chair and sat down. "So, you guys wanted to know about my website?"

_I guess we're getting down to business_. "Yeah, so how long have you had the timeofdeath site up and running?" Sam asked, pulling a small notepad and pen from his pocket.

"Uh, I guess about two months now."

"Can you describe it for us?"

Wally shrugged. "Not much to describe, really. The user just logs on, types in some information and then they find out when and how they'll die."

"How many hits would you say you have on it each day?"

Again Wally shrugged. "Not much…maybe about a hundred. It's kind of slacked off lately…people are losing interest."

Dean took up the questioning. "What made you decide to come up with a site like this?"

"I just wanted something that was fun and a little scary."

Sam caught Dean's eyes and jerked his head in the direction of the desk. Dean gave him a slight nod and Sam stepped back from Dean and Wally and casually made his way over to Wally's desk. It was littered with scraps of paper, books, pencils, and pens. A laptop sat in the middle of the desk and the young hunter saw it was on the timeofdeath website. Not really spotting anything interesting, Sam was about to tune back to the conversation when something caught his eye. It was partially covered by a sheet of paper, but he could make out some markings on it.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?" Wally's voice slightly startled Sam.

Sam shrugged innocently. "I was checking out your laptop…that's an HP, right?"

"Yeah." Wally didn't seem convinced of Sam's lie and grew more anxious. "Look, I—I think you guys should be leaving."

"Just a couple more questions," Dean said quickly, trading a quick glance with Sam.

"Just hurry," Wally said, looking at Dean once again.

Sam cringed when he saw Dean's cheeks flush in anger, but his older brother surprised him when he remained calm and asked, "There's been several deaths around campus within the last few days, haven't there, Wally?"

"I guess. What does this have to do with me?"

Dean cocked his head to the side. "It seems a little strange to me that these victims visited the site right before their deaths."

"It's just a coincidence."

"Is it also a coincidence that they died the exact same way the site said they would?"

The color seemed to drain from Wally's face, but he quickly got up from his chair and moved to the door before the brothers could say anything else. "I think we've talked long enough."

"Yeah, I think our five minutes are up." Dean looked over at Sam and nodded towards the door. "Sam."

Sam led the way out, giving Wally a small smile as he passed him. Dean nodded his thanks and the brothers didn't say a word until they got out to the Impala.

"Seems Wally the Geek is hiding something," Dean commented as he started the Impala.

Sam nodded his agreement. "That's not the only thing he was hiding."

"What do you mean?"

"I found something on his desk, but I'm not really sure what it is."

Dean sighed. "So, I guess this means we're going to the library, huh?"

Sam smiled as his brother pulled the car out of the parking lot. "It's like you can read my mind."

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How dare those two come in here and mess with his stuff, try to get in the middle of what he was doing. Why did he even let them into the apartment? He could have easily slammed the door in their faces and told them to go away. But no, he had to give in, just like he always does. Why did he always have to be so gullible, allow people to walk all over him? He was supposed to be stronger than that, wasn't supposed to allow people to take advantage of him anymore.

He knew as soon as he saw the two men, they weren't reporters. They were dressed too casually to be reporters, and besides, he caught a trace of pink hair under the shorter one's ball cap. Maybe they were police. He knew all about plainclothes detectives and they were asking the right questions. Wally felt himself growing anxious as he realized he may be getting close to being caught. He couldn't let that happen though…he still had one more to go, one more person on his list.

"Why did I have to be so stupid?" Wally tapped his fist against his head in frustration. He knew the two "reporters" were suspicious of him. He had been on edge as he answered their questions and his nerves were showing through. He might as well have signed a confession for them and told them how he was causing the deaths. It would have been a whole hell of a lot easier than bumbling through their questions.

Then something hit the young techie…they said their names were Sam and Dean. A Dean had logged onto the site not too long ago. While it could be attributed to any number of Deans on the campus, something was telling Wally it wasn't. Something was telling him that the Dean that signed on and the Dean who just left his apartment was the very same person. And if it wasn't, then it wasn't that big of a loss. Just someone who would be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Something needed to be done and quickly. He had to stop them before they ruined everything for him. He couldn't let all this planning go down the drain, not when he had so much at risk. Rushing over to his computer, Wally pulled up Dean's results. _The gates of Hell will swallow you whole…_Wally had to admit that was a weird result, but something he could work with. He would send a message to those two detectives, once and for all.

Now, he just had to put his plan into action.

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Dean Winchester hated libraries.

It was just as simple as that. He would rather be in any other place in the world but a library. He didn't like the fact you had to remain quiet in there unless you wanted to feel the wrath of the librarian, which seemed to Dean to always be the most senile old woman in the community. Just his luck—stuck in a library with not even a hot chick to flirt with.

"Have you found anything yet?" Dean grumbled.

Sam let out a long annoyed sigh. "You know, when you ask me that every five minutes it doesn't make me work any faster."

"Can you think of anything that will make you work faster?"

Sam pushed Dean's feet off the table. "Actually, I can, Dean. It would go a lot faster if you cracked open a book or two."

Dean shot an irritated look at his brother and planted his feet back on the desk. About the same time, the librarian appeared next to him and cleared her throat. Dean looked at her sheepishly as she gazed at him disapprovingly. He reluctantly lowered his feet to the ground and heard Sam chuckle as the librarian returned to her desk. "Shut up," Dean muttered as he reached out and swiped Sam upside his head.

"I think you may have an admirer, Dean. I may just have to leave your number with her."

"You do that and they'll be picking up pieces of you for weeks."

"I thought you were all for having a little fun," Sam said innocently.

Dean ignored his brother and nodded towards the books he was looking at. "You want to clue me in on what you're looking for?"

Sam became serious. "I'm thinking what I saw on Wally's desk was a talisman."

"A talisman?" Dean looked at his brother, surprised.

"Yeah, but I didn't really get a good look at it." He was flipping through a book and came to a stop when a picture caught his eye. "Though I think this may be what I saw…"

Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder to see the picture and let out a low whistle—it was an ornate wooden pendant the size of a tennis ball with an intricate carving of a pentagram. In each of the open spaces, except for the middle, of the pentagram was a small diamond with a dot in the middle of each of them. A series of Celtic knots formed the border of the pendant and in the middle was a space knotted out that appeared to be holding a small vial of some sort.

"Impressive," Dean said.

Sam nodded in agreement. "It says that it's called the _Pendant of Substantia_ which roughly translates to the 'Pendant of Essence'. Apparently it was crafted about a thousand years ago and it gives whoever possesses it the ability to control spirits to do their bidding."

"And you're telling me that our little geek managed to get a hold of this?" Dean voice held total disbelief. How could someone like Wally Anderson possess such a powerful artifact as this? To have that kind of power was messing with some pretty Dark Arts and it wasn't something that a person could be persuaded to relinquish. To cross over to that side, there was no coming back.

"I don't know how he got it and we can't even be sure he has the talisman. Like I said, I only caught a glimpse of it." Sam marked the page and then closed the book. "But if he does have this, then we're dealing with something more than a killer website."

"You're telling me." Dean pushed away from Sam's chair. "We need to get in and take another look at his apartment, make sure this is what we're up against."

"I agree." Sam stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, then the book. "Let's get a copy of this, first."

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Sam had to admit he was more than a little annoyed when his brother opted to go get something to eat first. Dean searched best on a full stomach and if Sam wanted him to be at the top of his game, he would let him get something to eat. Who was Sam to argue with that kind of logic, though he could come up with more than enough reasons why they shouldn't—namely lives were at stake. But Dean assured him they would eat fast and get out, so Sam went along with it.

He was instantly regretting that decision when he saw where Dean was pulling in—Rosalita's Mexican Cuisine. It wasn't that Sam didn't like Mexican food; he wasn't that big a fan of spicy food. And from the looks of the cars in the parking lot, they were busy. Sam liked the quiet and tranquility of little diners, where he could gather his thoughts. Rosalita's was not going to let him do that.

That was only confirmed when, walking through the heavy wooden doors, they were immediately met with the jovial sounds of a live mariachi band playing on a small stage set in the middle of the restaurant. A hostess with a blinding smile greeted them, and pulling two menus from a slot on the wall, led them to a small table in front of one of the many windows lining the building. "You two enjoy your meal…Miguel will be here shortly to take your order."

Dean nodded and flashed a smile to match hers, causing her to blush a bit.

"You had to pick the noisiest place in town, didn't you?" Sam grumbled as soon as the hostess returned to her station.

"Oh, come on, Sammy. It's not that bad." Dean grinned at his brother.

Sam didn't return the grin, only scowled. "I am not letting you pick where we eat anymore."

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the restaurant, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"I thought that was only with music."

Dean shook his head. "Nope, that pretty much goes with everything."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam chose to remain quiet as the waiter approached their table and set down a bowl of nachos and salsa in front of them. "Are you ready to order?" he asked in heavily accented English.

Dean spoke up before Sam could. "I want the steak fajitas grande with a beer."

Miguel jotted down Dean's order, then turned to Sam. "And you?"

"Just the taco salad, please, and a beer."

"I will be back soon with your orders." Miguel turned on his heel and quickly made his way towards the kitchen. Dean instantly dug into the nachos and salsa.

Sam began to rub at his head where he could feel a headache beginning to form. It seemed to beat in perfect rhythm with the band, almost as if they were performing inside his head instead of on a stage.

"You okay?" Dean asked, around a mouthful of nachos.

"It's just a headache." Sam knew what his brother was thinking and he quickly wanted to allay his fears. He and Dean still weren't sure if the visions were over now that the Demon was dead and it was a big fear for the both of them. "We need to figure out what we're going to do, Dean."

"About what?" Dean asked as he stuffed another nacho into his mouth.

"About this talisman," Sam said, looking at his brother, who was stuffing yet another nacho into his mouth. "We need to find out how to destroy it."

"It didn't say in the book?"

Sam grabbed a couple of nachos for himself before Dean could finish them all. "It said only the owner could destroy it and something tells me Wally isn't going to go along with that plan."

"We could always persuade him to do it."

Sam shook his head. "We can't kill a human, Dean."

"I never said anything about killing him, Sammy. Why do you always assume that?"

"Your means of persuasion differ from other people's, Dean."

"You're saying I can't control myself?"

"I didn't say…" Sam trailed off. What was he trying to say to his brother? Yes, Dean had a temper, but then again Sam had never seen him go as far as to kill someone. "Forget I said anything."

"Sounds good to me." Dean pushed away from the table.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a leak if that's okay with you."

Sam sighed and resumed eating the nachos. He'd managed to piss Dean off once again. It was becoming a regular occurrence now and the thing was Sam wasn't even meaning to do it. He was always managing to say the wrong thing to Dean and he was getting tired of it. He didn't want Dean to be angry at him, especially not right now, not when they were on a timetable unless Sam could figure something out.

Dean returned a few minutes later just as Miguel delivered their orders to the table. The brothers ate in silence, neither daring to say a word. Fifteen minutes later, they pushed their plates away and continued to nurse their beers.

Sam looked at his watch and groaned. "Are they ever going to bring the check?"

"You in a hurry to leave or something?" Dean asked, slightly amused.

"We need to get over to Wally's as soon as we can, Dean. I want to see if I'm right about that talisman."

"We still have time, Sammy. Just sit back and chill for a while."

Sam was about to argue with Dean when the faint sounds of _Happy Birthday_ drifted his way. "I feel sorry for whoever they're singing to. I've never liked that—always tried to avoid restaurants on my birthday."

Dean nodded and Sam didn't miss the hint of a smile that flashed across his brother's face. Sam had a sinking feeling Dean was up to something but before he could question it, the mariachi band stopped next to their table and the next thing Sam knew, a sombrero was plopped down on his head, a piece of chocolate cake with a single sparkler candle in the middle was placed in front of him, and the band burst into song.

_¡Feliz cumpleaños a tí!_

_¡Feliz cumpleaños a tí!_

_¡Feliz cumpleaños a Samuel!_

_¡Feliz cumpleaños a tí!_

If the floor chose at that very moment to open up and swallow him whole, Sam would welcome it with open arms. He could feel his face growing hot and he knew he had to be a bright shade of red by now. Looking around, he saw that all eyes in the restaurant were on him and as the song came to a close there was a chorus of applause and cheering. Everyone then looked at him expectantly and he realized they were waiting for him to blow out the candle. Taking a deep breath, Sam did just that and everyone returned to their meal. He noticed with growing embarrassment no one bothered to remove the sombrero from his head.

This was why Sam hated public places, why he detested going into busy places. Dean knew this and Sam was pretty damn sure he had this planned from the beginning even before they pulled into the parking lot. This was Dean's payback for the pink hair, Sam knew, and it was confirmed for him when he looked up and saw Dean was looking at him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You are so dead," Sam growled.

Dean laughed. "Aw, what's that matter, Samuel? Aren't you going to eat your cake?"

Sam looked down at his cake and then up at Dean, a cold smile appearing on his face. Before Dean could even react, Sam scooped up the cake and, turning it upside down, brought it down on his brother's head, making sure he ground it firmly. He noticed that several sets of eye were on him once again, but he didn't care this time—this was payback.

"Dude—what—what the hell?" Dean sputtered.

Sam leaned back in his chair and looked at Dean thoughtfully. "I figured it would go good with the pink hair."

"That was a waste of a perfectly good piece of cake. And did I mention it was free?"

Sam considered what Dean was saying. He leaned forward in his chair, and using his index finger, scooped a glob of cake off of Dean's hat. He brought it to his mouth and nodded as the chocolate warmed his taste buds. "I think you're right, Dean…I really did just waste a perfectly good piece of cake."

Dean glared at his brother, but didn't say anything as a piece of the cake fell into his lap.

And with that Sam scooped up another glob and brought it up to his mouth. "Very good, indeed."


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Big thanks to Bayre, my fantastic beta!**

Sam was a major pain in the ass.

It really was the only way Dean could describe his little brother at the moment. He tried to do one nice thing by getting Sam a free piece of cake and Sam showed his gratitude by creaming him with it. Sure, it was a rather embarrassing way of getting it and it wasn't exactly Sam's birthday, but a free piece of cake was a free piece of cake. And it was chocolate, which was only the main food group according to the gospel of Dean Winchester.

Dean would never understand why Sam couldn't take a joke. His baby brother always took them so hard, yet he would go back at Dean full throttle. And did Dean ever get mad, ever retaliate? Well, yes, but the point was, Dean could take a joke—it was as simple as that. Sam always took things so damn literally and sometimes Dean really just wanted to knock some sense and some fun into his brother's hard skull. And while it may not solve Dean's problem immediately, at least it would give him some peace and quiet from Sam's bitching for an hour or so.

"Are you finished making a fool of yourself now?" Dean asked.

Sam licked the last bit of chocolate off his finger and smirked. "I'm not making a fool of myself—I'm not the one covered in chocolate cake."

"No, but you're the one who keeps eating it off of me in front of the entire restaurant."

Sam frowned. "That sounded really dirty, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth and then seemed to realize what he just said. He quickly got up from the table, threw down some money and shot a glare in Sam's direction. "Get your ass in gear and let's go."

Sam chuckled as he took off the sombrero, and putting it down on the table, followed his brother out to the car. Dean was already seated in the driver's seat with the engine running. Sam barely made it in the car before Dean pulled out of the parking lot. "Did I piss you off that bad?"

"I'm not mad, Sammy." Dean didn't do a great job of keeping the anger out of his voice.

"If that's your happy voice, I'd hate to hear what your angry voice is."

Dean ignored his brother as he pulled into Wal-Mart, parking as close to the doors as he could. Without a word, he got out of the car and walked into the large chain department store, not even giving Sam the chance to follow him. He ignored the curious glances that were being shot his way, found what he wanted, and made his way to the Express lane. He paid for his purchase, grabbed the plastic bag, and was back in the car within five minutes.

"What were you doing?" Sam asked and Dean didn't miss the hint of fear in his voice. _Good…probably thinks I went in to get something to pay him back. Let the kid live in fear—serves him right._

Dean didn't say anything as he took off the trashed John Deere hat and replaced it with a plain denim hat. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he nodded in satisfaction and threw the old hat and bag on the backseat. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam smirking.

"What the hell are you smirking at now?"

Sam brought a hand to his mouth to try to cover up the laugh threatening to escape. "You do know it would have been easier to buy some hair dye and get your hair back to normal, don't you?"

Dean's eyes widened in horror as he realized what Sam was saying. "Son of a bitch!"

Sam burst into laughter at his brother's expression. "Yep, this definitely goes down at the best prank ever."

"Sam, I swear to God if you do not shut the hell up, I will throw you out of this car." Dean sent a glare at his brother to let him see that he was serious.

Sam immediately shut up and remained quiet the rest of the way to Wally's apartment. Dean had to admit it was music to his ears.

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Ben Givens was tired of it all. He was tired of the feeling of helplessness that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, tired of the death. These were people he knew, people he considered his friends. Why was this happening? What did they do to deserve this? When would it end? When he was dead?

He felt a chill go through his body at that last question. Would he be the next to die? Considering everyone who'd died were with him when he checked out that site, it seemed plausible. Was he just a ticking time bomb now, a walking clock waiting for his time to expire? He had to admit it scared him to think of it like that, but what could he do? As far as he knew, everyone who died barely had a warning before their time was up. So what was he supposed to do—sit in his dorm room and wait for his time to come?

Ben couldn't do that, he couldn't wait for the inevitable. He didn't want to die, not now. He had so much to live for, so much he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to travel, to get out and see the sights the world had to offer. He wanted to go to every beach and ride the waves. It was a dream of his ever since he learned to surf back in California when he was five and he didn't want it to go to waste.

The young beach bum sighed as he got up from his sofa. He hadn't gone out since Monica died, whether it was from fear or the fact he didn't think he could face anyone at that moment. He was tired of all of the sympathetic looks being sent his way, tired of being treated as a pity case. What were worst were the looks of contempt he'd been getting, almost as if everyone blamed him for the deaths. He knew people were talking about it, putting two and two together. He, Alex, Abby, and Monica were all friends; everyone had died except for him; maybe he was the mastermind behind it all for whatever reason.

But that was crazy and people had to realize it. He couldn't cause an earthquake, he'd left Abby right before she fell down the stairs, and Alex had left his apartment before he was hit by the bus. So how in the world could he be the cause of it?

Walking to the refrigerator, Ben pulled out a bottle of water and gulped half of it down with one sip. He was getting stir-crazy. He hated sitting around doing nothing. He should be out there trying to figure out something, trying to stop what was coming. But how did you stop death? How did stop the inevitable from happening?

A knock at the door pulled Ben from his thoughts. Frowning, he set down his water on his desk and opened the door to reveal an attractive blonde with bright blue eyes, ample breasts, and curves in all the right places. A smile instantly lit his face.

"Hi, can I help you?"

The girl smiled at him. "I certainly hope so. My car won't start and I've knocked on several doors, but nobody seems to be in. Would you mind if I came in and used your phone?"

"I could go take a look at your car for you," Ben offered.

"The girl shook her head. "Thanks, but I would rather a mechanic look at it. So…can I use your phone?" She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling.

Ben could feel his breath catch in his throat from the way she looked at him. Was this his lucky day or what? Ben pushed the door open and stepped back. "Sure, come on in."

"You're a lifesaver." She placed a hand against his face as she passed. "By the way, my name is Amber."

"I'm Ben." Ben closed the door and pointed to the cordless phone, sitting on the desk. "The phone's right there. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water would be great," Amber answered as she dialed.

"Sure thing." Ben walked over to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water for her. He waited until she was off the phone before he handed it to her. "So, do you go to school here?"

"Just part time." Amber took a sip of her water.

"Is someone coming to help you?"

"Yeah, they should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"You're more than welcome to stay here and wait." Ben turned on his smile once again hoping she would stay.

Amber's smile matched his. "I would love that." She set down her water and sauntered towards him. "Has anyone told you you have the most beautiful eyes?"

"You think so?"

Amber nodded. "I do." She brought her hand up and softly caressed his face. "And you lips are so…sexy."

Ben swallowed hard. "You're certainly one to talk."

Amber laughed softly and slowly leaned forward to kiss him. Ben felt himself get lost in her as her lips touched his and he allowed himself the pleasure and comfort he felt there. At least one good thing was happening to him this week and he didn't want it to stop in fear that it would be nothing more than a dream he was waking up from. But his bliss was short-lived as his cell phone began to chirp.

"Let it go to voicemail," Amber said softly, continuing to kiss him.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Ben reluctantly pulled away from her. "I've been waiting on a call from the baseball coach. If I don't answer it I may lose my shot at the team." He gave her one more kiss and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. "Hello?"

"_Your time of death has come..."_

"Who is this?"

"_Your time of death has come…"_ The phone call ended with a click.

Ben pulled his phone from his ear and frowned at the screen in confusion. Instead of his wallpaper, he was greeted by the timeofdeath website where a clock was counting down his final moments. "What the hell?"

"What's wrong?"

Ben didn't look at Amber. He continued to frown at his screen as he tried to clear it, but it was as if it was frozen. He even powered down the phone and turned it back on, but was met with the same result. "My damn phone is busted."

"I could make it better for you."

Ben finally looked over at Amber and was repulsed by what he saw. She no longer was the beautiful blonde he'd let into his dorm only a few minutes ago. Now her face was grey and mottled and decaying flesh was hanging down. Her hair was a dirty stringy blonde and she was dressed in a long black dress that had holes and frayed edges. "Amber?" he asked, horrified.

"What's the matter, Ben? Haven't you seen a ghost before?'

Ben began to back away from her slowly. He had no idea what was going on here and to say he was freaked would be putting it mildly. This wasn't how the site said he was going to die—he was supposed to die in the arms of a beautiful woman. It wasn't meant to be this way. Amber was…well, she was downright hideous. "This isn't real." Ben continued to back away.

"Of course, it's real…you felt my kiss, didn't you?"

_I kissed a dead chick! I put my tongue into her mouth and actually got off on a dead chick! A friggin' DEAD CHICK!!!_

Ben kept backing up until he felt his knees connect with his bed. Unable to maintain his balance, he fell back on it and before he could get up, Amber was sitting on top of him, straddling him. She ran and hand through his hair and leaned down. "Don't worry, baby…this won't hurt a bit."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

As it would have it, luck was finally on the Winchesters' side. This surprised Sam because, usually, the world was out to get him and Dean. Honestly Sam didn't know what to think and he wasn't even sure if he believed it. He was waiting for someone to either pinch him or a camera crew to jump out and tell him that the brothers were on Candid Camera. Wally wasn't home—in fact, as the brothers pulled into the parking lot of the complex, Wally was just pulling out in a beat up red Volkswagen Bug.

"Where do you think he's going?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked. "Probably some geeky role playing game."

"Dean, just because he is the text book version of a geek doesn't mean he's off to play Dungeons and Dragons."

"Don't tell me he's off to a date, Sammy. Hell, you have a better chance of getting a date than he does."

"Bite me." Sam pushed out of the car as he saw Wally's car disappear around a bend. "We need to hurry before he gets back."

For once, Dean didn't argue as he got out of the car and followed Sam up to Wally's apartment. Dean served as lookout as Sam dug into his pocket and pulled out his lock-picking kit. He had the door opened within a matter of seconds and he and Dean quickly ducked inside before anyone could notice them. The brothers pulled out flashlights and began their search, Sam immediately going for the cluttered desk.

"Hey, I got it." Sam called over his shoulder.

Dean walked over to him. "Is that the one we're looking for?"

Sam nodded. "Definitely." He held it up and shined his flashlight on it.

"What's that in the middle, in the vial?"

Sam cringed. "You honestly want to know?"

Dean shrugged.

"I think it's blood."

"What, Wally's blood?"

Again Sam nodded. "I think that's how Wally's having control over it. It's almost like a blood bond—it's why he's got to be the one to destroy it."

"That's sick."

"Yeah."

"So, what? Do we take it with us?"

Sam sighed. "It's not going to do us any good, not without Wally."

"Well, we've got to do something, Sammy." Dean snapped. "We can't keep letting him kill innocent people."

"Don't snap at me, Dean. I know what Wally's doing and we will stop him."

"Before the next person dies?"

"What do you want me to do, Dean? Read his damn mind and find out who's going to be next?"

Dean was about to say something when he spotted something on the desk. "Maybe you won't have to—take a look at this."

Sam frowned but looked at the open laptop screen. Once again, the timeofdeath website was on the screen. Peering closely at it, Sam noticed it was flashing a clock that was counting down. Looking above the clock, Sam saw a name that he recognized. "He's going after Ben."

"Yeah, and according to that clock, Ben only has about five minutes left. Come on, we have to get over to his dorm before it's too late."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean managed to make it to Dawson Hall in two minutes flat. That's not saying he didn't break about ten traffic laws in order to accomplish the goal, but what was a few tickets when a man's life was at stake. He and Sam didn't say anything as they jumped out of the Impala, hurried to the trunk, and each grabbed a shotgun loaded with rock salt, and the weapons bag. Dean quickly shut the trunk and the brothers sprinted across the lawn as one, deftly jumping over any obstacles that were in their way.

They skidded to a halt in front of Ben's dorm room and Dean pounded furiously on the door. "Ben, open up!"

"Maybe he's not here, Dean. Maybe we're wrong about this," Sam said as the door went unanswered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a painful scream from the other side of the door.

"I don't think so." Stepping back from the door and handing Sam his shotgun, Dean raised his leg and began to kick the door in earnest as the screams continued. It took three tries, but finally, the door splintered open and, grabbing his gun from Sam, the brothers rushed inside.

"Hey!"

Amber looked up and smiled wickedly at the Winchesters. "Looks like we have company, Benji." She leapt from Ben's inert form and launched herself at Dean, but Dean was quicker. He had the gun up and had fired a shot before Amber was able to wrap her hands around his throat. The spirit screamed as the rock salt hit her and she dissolved into nothing.

"Is he okay?" Dean asked, lowering his gun but keeping his eyes alert in case she came back.

Sam was standing next Ben, feeling for a pulse. "Yeah, he's okay."

Dean let out a sigh. "Good."

"You know this didn't stop Wally, Dean—he's still out there."

"Yeah, I know and we'll worry about that in a bit." Dean continued to watch the room.

"You think she'll come back?"

"I don't know."

Just then Ben began to stir. "What—what happened?"

Dean and Sam turned their attention to the downed man. "Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked.

Ben nodded slowly. "I think so." Then his eyes widened. "Is she still here?"

"No, she's gone."

Ben finally seemed to notice who was in the dorm. "Wait, what the hell are you two doing here? How did you get in?"

"That's the thanks we get for saving your ass?" Dean asked, disgusted.

Sam shot a look at his brother. "We figured you may be next so we came over to check on you. We heard you screaming, so we kicked the door open. We got here just in time before she could kill you."

Ben nodded. "Thanks. So, that thing really was a ghost, right?"

Dean decided to be honest with him. After all, he'd already had one shock so what was one more? "Spirit…ghost…same thing."

Ben lost all the color in his face, but Dean didn't have time to worry about that. "Look, are you going to be okay?"

"I think so…it may take me a while or a lifetime, but I think I'll be okay."

"Just do us a favor and stay in your dorm until we figure this out, okay?"

"How long is that going to take?" Ben asked, incredulously.

"As long as it needs to take," Dean snapped.

Sam spoke up. "Look, Ben, we're still not sure if you're in danger anymore. Just give us some time and let us put a stop to this."

"You know who's doing this?"

"We have a pretty good idea."

"Tell me, let me help."

"No, definitely not." Dean's voice was stern.

"This person—or thing—has killed three of my friends and tried to do me in a few minutes ago."

"Ben, I'll make this very clear." Dean jabbed a finger in the student's chest. "You follow us or try to get in our way, I'll sic that spirit on your ass again, you hear me?"

Ben held up his hands in surrender as Dean headed for the door. Sam gave Ben an apologetic smile as he passed him. "We'll call you as soon we're finished."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You didn't have to be like that, Dean," Sam reprimanded his brother as soon as they got back to the motel. The ride from the university had been tense and silent, Sam fearing anything he said would anger Dean.

Dean threw down his jacket on his bed. "Be like what, Sammy? That kid follows us and tries to get in our way, he'll end up dead."

"He almost ended up dead tonight!"

"Exactly my point, Sammy. I'm not letting him risk himself again."

"Is that what this is about? You don't want a save going to waste?"

"What?" Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to this." He grabbed some clean clothes from his duffel and went into the bathroom before Sam could say anything else to him.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the tension. He was so tired of this, always fighting with Dean over stupid little things. Why did it always have to be like this? Why were they constantly fighting with each other? Sam couldn't deal with it, couldn't worry about always saying the wrong thing to Dean. He didn't like it being like this but some part of him knew it wasn't going to change, so he was going to have to get over it or have it drive him crazy.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he grabbed up his laptop and powered it up. He wanted to make sure they had all the information they needed about the talisman, that they weren't lacking in anything. He'd barely signed on to the Internet when a screen popped up and it immediately made his blood run hot and cold at the same time.

"Son of a bitch!"


	10. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone!**

**There is only one more chapter to go after this one!**

**Many big thanks to my awesome beta, Bayre!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

There were a couple of times in Sam Winchester's life he actually considered committing fratricide—like the time Dean told Sam's first girlfriend that Sam had an untreatable rash or when Dean made the stupid deal with the crossroads demon in order to bring him back to life. Now, Sam was seriously thinking about going through with his plans. He knew how to hide a body and add to the fact Dean was already technically dead and Sam was pretty much sure he'd get off scot-free. Besides, some may think he'd be doing the world a favor if he killed Dean.

How in the world could Dean be so stupid and careless? Was he just looking for an early out, not even giving Sam a chance to get him out of this mess? Why did he always have to put himself at risk like this? But Sam knew why, he knew exactly what Dean would tell him: _"I did it to protect you."_

Sam was so tired of that excuse. He was so tired of being the reason Dean put himself last. Why couldn't Dean see that he didn't have to keep doing it? When was he going to realize Sam was a grown man who was capable of taking care of himself?

The younger hunter looked at the screen, but it was nothing but a blur to him. Well, everything except for the clock counting down Dean's imminent doom: three hours and twenty-six minutes. In that short amount of time, if Sam didn't find a way to stop Wally, Dean was going to die and it just wasn't fair. Dean was supposed to have a year, a year left with Sam, but yet, here was this stupid clock that seemed to mock Sam, daring him to find a way to stop it.

When Sam told Dean it was his turn to save him, he didn't know it was going to be a full-time job. Maybe Dean was trying to take advantage of Sam's promise, see how many times he could get the younger man to save him. But Sam knew Dean wouldn't do that to him and it brought him back to the original reason why Dean did what he did: he was protecting Sam, shielding him away the dark side of the world, once again.

"Damn you, Dean!" he whispered harshly. He could feel tears springing to his eyes, but he wasn't about to let them fall and betray his anger. He wanted to be angry about this, wanted Dean to see how much it pissed him off. He couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable, couldn't let Dean see how much this was hurting him and scaring him. He couldn't watch Dean die, he just couldn't. He wouldn't be able to survive it, Dean had to know that.

Sam didn't know how long it was before his older brother emerged from the bathroom. Time seemed to stand still for him ever since he saw the clock counting down Dean's final hours.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked as he ran a towel through his damp hair. "You look as if someone kicked your puppy."

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes blazing. "Were you going to hide this from me? Did you think I wasn't going to find out?"

Dean sighed. "Now what's got your panties up in a twist?"

Sam turned the laptop to face Dean. "Let's start with this."

"Oh."

"That's all you can say, Dean?"

"What do you want me to tell you, Sammy? What's done is done."

"No, Dean, you don't get off that easily. You don't get to brush this one under the rug like you do with everything else."

"I'm not having this talk with you, Sam." Dean lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.

"Yes, you are, Dean!" Sam's voice got louder. "Don't you realize what you've done, what this clock says?"

"I did what I had to do."

"You only have a little over three hours, Dean! Three hours until you die! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Dean sat up on his bed and glared at his brother. "You know why I did this, Sammy. I did it—"

"To protect me, I know! That's your reason for everything, Dean, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it."

"You're tired of me watching out for you? Risking my life to keep you safe?"

"No one ever told you you had to do that!" Sam yelled.

Dean raised his voice to match his brother's. "You're damn right no one ever told me to do that for you, Sam, but you know what? I do it anyway and I will keep doing it until I am damn well six feet in the ground."

Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped himself, his shoulders slumping in defeat. How was he supposed to talk sense into Dean? Dean never listened to him, anyway; he did what he wanted, screw everything anyone else had to say. Sam couldn't keep doing this, though. He couldn't keep going in circles with Dean. It was wearing thin on Sam and he wasn't sure how much more he could take before he completely lost it.

"What am I supposed to do, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Dean's voice was sharp.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Sam, I—" Dean's voice trailed off, causing Sam to look at him. He actually saw fear in his brother's green eyes and it scared Sam. Dean looked lost, like the wind had been knocked out of him, and in that one moment, Dean looked vulnerable, something Sam wasn't used to.

"Dean, I know you don't want to talk about it. I know you want to pretend like nothing has happened but I can't do that anymore. I can't sit here and pretend this doesn't scare me, the deal you made doesn't terrify me. It does, even more than I'm willing to admit."

Dean didn't say anything.

"When I found out you made that deal, the only thing I could think about was the fact I was going to have to watch you die if I couldn't find a way out of this for you. I can't do that, Dean…I'm not strong enough."

"You're not going to have to watch me die, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I'm not going to let you."

"It's too late for that, Dean. Wally's singled you out now…you're going to be next."

Dean got to his feet and gave Sam's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I guess my trusty Geek Boy better figure out a way to get me out of this mess, then."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wally was getting nervous.

He saw the black Impala pulling into the parking lot as he was pulling out and instantly recognized the two men inside it—the two so-called reporters. Wally pulled out and quickly doubled back, parking several spaces away as the men got out of the car and walked up towards his apartment. He held his breath as they broke into his apartment and then saw the bouncing beams of flashlights dancing around the darkened building.

It didn't take them long to get finished with their search, because five minutes later, he saw them rushing out of the building and towards the classic. There was only one reason they would be doing that—they figured out who he was going after next and were going to try to stop it. Well, let them…what was one little victory? There was always time to go after Ben again—after he dealt with the two "reporters".

As soon as they were out of his line of sight, Wally jumped from his car and rushed into his apartment. He was waiting until Ben had been taken care of before going after them, but now nothing was holding him back. He had to stop them before they ruined everything.

Signing onto the site, he pulled up the results he was looking for. All he had to do was aim the spirit their way and it would take care of the rest; he wouldn't even have to get his hands dirty, which was a good thing. The reason Wally went this route was because he couldn't very well kill them himself, he didn't like any blood to be on his hands. As far as he was concerned, as long as he turned his head the other way, there was nothing to worry about.

He picked up the talisman from the desk and held it in both hands as he began to send thoughts into it. All he had to do was focus on the victim and what he wanted done, and the spirit would take care of the rest. _FindKillFindKillFindKill._

The spirit materialized in front of his eyes and he was surprised to see it was a woman this time, and a stunning one at that. A brunette with deep brown eyes and a low-cut black dress that hugged her body, she was drop-dead gorgeous—someone who was completely out of Wally's league. So what the hell was she going to do with Dean…the site said the gates of Hell would swallow him. Well, if this was the sight that greeted you at Hell, Wally wanted a first class ticket. The way she was looking at him, Wally felt he could lose himself in her.

Wally swallowed down the lump in his throat. "You know what to do?"

The woman nodded, turned and left the apartment. Wally sat back in his chair, happy with himself. Things were working out for him as they should be. Now all he had to do was wait…

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You got anything yet?"

Sam looked up from his laptop to see Dean pacing the room. He'd been doing it for the last fifteen minutes and it was the first time in recent memory Sam could remember seeing Dean like this. Dean was nervous, though Sam knew he'd never admit it. Even if Dean Winchester was about to lose his life, one thing you could be sure of was that he would hold on to his pride until his last dying breath.

Sam let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He'd been sitting at the small table for the last couple of hours, searching every available option to get Dean out of this, but he wasn't having too much luck. And pulling up the browser window for the timeofdeath site, Sam saw Dean's remaining time was approaching the thirty minute mark. "I just don't know, Dean. Without Wally destroying that talisman, we're pretty much screwed."

"There's got to be something, Sammy—this guy isn't perfect. Hell, he gave himself away as soon as he opened the door to us."

"Dean, I'm telling you.." Sam trailed off as a thought hit him. Could it really be that simple? Was it actually possible that he could so it in time to save Dean? The more Sam thought about it, though, the more it was looking to be his only option. This could possibly work.

"Sam…Sam…Sammy!"

Sam jumped as Dean's barking voice broke him from his thoughts. "What?"

"Your freaky mind is coming up with something. You want to share it with the rest of the class?"

"I was thinking…what if there was some way I could get into the site and use it against Wally?"

Dean sat down on his bed. "What would that do?"

"Well, if I was able to get into the site and enter Wally's information, maybe I could turn the spirit against him."

"How? You don't have the talisman," Dean pointed out.

"No, I don't, but I was reading up on the talisman and it said the summoner has to concentrate all of his thoughts into it in order to get the spirit to perform how they want it to. Not only that, they have to have some kind of visual to focus on—whether it's a picture, a video, a personal belonging…"

"Or a website," Dean finished for his brother.

"Exactly. When we were just at his apartment, he had Ben's results on the screen. If I have this right, it doesn't matter what Wally's thinking, whoever is on the screen, that's who the spirit is going to go after because it has that visual."

"Let me see if I have this right, Sammy—you are going to turn a spirit onto another human being?"

"If it gets you out of this, you bet your ass I will."

"Doesn't that go against your entire code of ethics, every fiber of your being?"

"Dean, do you want me to do this or not?"

"Oh, hell yes, I want you to do it, it's just…" Dean's voice trailed off.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Hell, Sammy…I've never been more proud of you in my life." Dean's face broke into a cocky grin.

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, it seems that I'm rubbing off on you."

Sam focused his entire attention on the laptop. "If that's true, then God help me."

"I think it may be a little too late for that, Sammy."

Sam chuckled—okay, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing Dean was rubbing off on him more every day. If it meant saving Dean, then Sam would welcome it. And while Sam didn't like turning the spirit on another human being, even one that deserved it in his opinion, he would do it for Dean. Besides, if he could find a way to get Dean out of this mess, maybe he could get him out of the deal he made with the demon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes later, Dean and Sam were racing down the streets on their way to Wally's apartment. It had taken some time, but Sam finally managed to get into the site and post Wally's results. Dean had to admit the kid was fast when it came to the computer and he was grateful for it. It amazed the older Winchester what lengths his brother was willing to go to in order to help him, but in all honesty, Dean knew he'd do the same thing for Sam, though he may have been less civil about it.

"So, how did you get a hold of Wally's date of birth, anyway?"

Sam looked over at him and smiled. "That's actually what took the longest time—I had to hack into his school records and find it."

"Geez, Sammy…first you want to blackmail some geek and then you hack into his school records—where's it going to stop for you?"

Sam looked down at his watch. "We need to hurry, Dean—we only have about twelve minutes."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean muttered. "I don't need you to do a countdown for me."

Another minute later, Dean sped into the parking lot, quickly bringing the car to a stop. The brothers didn't waste any time as they ran to the trunk, grabbed their gear and raced up the stairs to Wally's apartment. Dean nodded at Sam and the younger Winchester raised his fist and pounded on the door. "Wally, open up!"

There was no answer, so Sam pounded harder, garnering a few curious neighbors to open their doors and see what the disturbance was. Sam dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a badge, flashing it for all to see. "Police business. You folks just go back into your apartments."

"Pretty smooth there, Sammy," Dean said as the neighbors quickly darted back into their apartments.

Sam ignored him and continued to pound on the door. "Wally, open up now!"

"You know, I can always kick the door open."

Sam nodded and just as Dean was raising his foot, the door opened to reveal Wally, a crazed expression on his face. The brothers could see the talisman held tightly in his right hand. "You're too late. It's already done…she's been sent."

"Really?" Dean asked, pushing past Wally, Sam following closely behind. "Then how is it I'm still standing here?"

"You've got to stop this, Wally," Sam said gently.

Wally shook his head. "I can't—you don't understand."

"Then help me understand," Sam pleaded. "Tell me why you're doing this. Why did you kill those innocent people?"

Wally chuckled wryly. "That's it right there. To you, they may have been innocent, but to me they represented everyone in my life who has put me down, everyone that I let take advantage of me."

"So, this was nothing more than revenge to you?" Dean glared at him.

"No, it was more than that—it was vengeance. I had to take control, I couldn't let them get away with it, don't you see?"

"What I see is a pathetic excuse for a human being. You couldn't fight your own battle so you had someone else do it for you."

Sam could see Wally's face start to flush in anger, so he quickly stepped in front of Dean. "Wally, you need to realize what you're dealing with. You're messing with some pretty dark magic. This isn't something you can take lightly. The longer you keep doing it, the more you're going to want it, crave it."

Wally looked at Sam, clutching the talisman tighter in his hand.

"You have to put a stop to this, Wally. You've already killed three people, you don't need anymore blood on your hands." Sam nodded at him. "You need to destroy the talisman."

Wally slowly shook his head. "You only want me to destroy it so you can save your partner." Just then the lights started flickering. "It's too late for that, though…she's here."

The brothers looked all around the tiny apartment and their eyes finally came to rest on a figure materializing out of the shadows. Dean felt his blood run cold at the sight of her—it was the crossroads demon, the very one he'd made the deal with. She was slowly approaching him, a seductive smile on her face. _Come on, this has to work…I can't let Sammy see this…tell me this is going to work!_

"Dean!"

"Yeah, Sammy, I see her."

"I told you! You can't stop me! You can't—" Wally stopped as he saw the woman move away from Dean and turn towards him. "Wait—what are you doing? You're supposed to go after him!"

The woman shook her head slowly, the seductive smile on her face.

Wally started to back up. "I—I don't understand."

Dean nodded his head towards the computer. "You might want to take a look at your screen there, Wally."

Wally turned his back on the woman and the Winchesters long enough to look at his computer screen. He turned back to them, confusion written all over his face. "But…how?"

Dean shrugged. "It seems you're not the only computer geek in this room."

Sam glared at his brother, but focused his attention on Wally. "I found out how it worked, Wally, it didn't take too long. It's the same thing you did to the others, that you were going to do to Dean."

"I guess you should have double-checked yourself, huh Wally?"

"No..no…" Wally was shaking his head in disbelief.

"There are only two solutions to this problem, Wally. Either the spirit kills you or you destroy the talisman."

"This is blackmail."

"Call it whatever you want, but you better make your decision fast because according to your clock, you have about twenty seconds."

Wally looked from each brother, the woman, the computer screen, and the talisman and back again.

"Come on, Wally…you have about ten seconds!" Dean yelled.

_Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…_With each passing second, the spirit stepped closer to Wally.

"Five seconds!"

The woman put her hands on either side of Wally's face. _Five…four…three…_

"All right! I'll do it!" Wally yelled frantically. He quickly threw the talisman to the floor and stomped on it at the last second, bursting the small vial inside it. The spirit disappeared in a flash, leaving a panting and pale geek in her wake. He slid to the floor, and rocking back and forth he hugged his legs, muttering incoherently.

Dean let out a sigh of relief and looked over at his brother. He didn't want to wonder about Wally; he'd been the one to get them in this mess to begin with. There was only one person he cared about and he was nodding grimly and giving Dean a faint smile.

"You did it, Sammy."


	11. Epilogue

**Thanks again for the wonderful reviews everyone!**

**This is my last chapter, I'm sad to say. But I've really had a lot of fun with this one and I am so happy you've enjoyed it!**

**Many thanks to my awesome beta, Bayre...you rock!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Dean woke up the next morning, he had a better outlook on life though not by much. Sure, he was alive—for now—but he still had that other clock counting down for him. It was the one that stayed in his head, loudly ticking away each second as if it were planted firmly in his ear. He couldn't get rid of it no matter what he tried, but then again, maybe he didn't need to get rid of it. Maybe he needed it as a constant reminder to let him know what he still had at stake.

He knew Sam was scared yesterday, scared he was going to lose Dean earlier than he was supposed to. Dean didn't like putting that fear into Sam, he liked taking it away. So why was he constantly doing it to the kid? Why did he have to continuously put Sam through the wringer, so to speak? Dean wanted to take away his brother's fear more than anything, he wanted to keep Sam shielded from that fear and pain.

When Sam found out about Dean going onto the site, to say Sam was terrified would be a major understatement. Dean wasn't afraid of that site until he saw Sam's face, until he heard his brother lash out at him. Sam's anger had masked his fear, anyone could have seen that. But Sam had to understand Dean did it for him, he would do anything for his brother until he couldn't do it anymore. It's what Dean always did for him and he wasn't about to stop anytime soon, Sam had to see that.

Maybe it was time to talk to Sam about it—what if Sam couldn't find a way out of Dean's deal? What if he ran himself ragged trying to find a way to get Dean out? Dean couldn't have that; he couldn't see Sam drive himself to the very edge for him. He knew what it would do to Sam, especially if he wasn't able to find Dean an out—there would be nothing left but a hollowed-out shell and Dean sure as hell wasn't about to have that.

Dean also wasn't about to find a way out himself—he couldn't. He couldn't sacrifice Sam. He remembered clearly what the crossroads demon told him: _"You try to welch or weasel your way out of this deal, Sam drops dead and he's back to rotting meat in no time."_ Dean wouldn't do it, he wouldn't be selfish. Sam was going to get his chance at a normal life and away from hunting. Dean was going to make damn sure.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dean took his eyes off the ceiling to see his younger brother coming out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders. He didn't even realize Sam was in the shower this entire time. "Yeah, I'm good."

Sam frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah, Sammy…everything's okay."

Sam didn't seem convinced, but he nodded and reached for a tee and a button-up shirt out of his duffel. "I was trying not to wake you up. Figured you could do with the rest."

"You didn't wake me up." Dean sat up and stretched. "Besides, you're the one who can use the rest—you look like crap."

"I don't think I'm going to take advice from a guy who had a death clock running down on him." He tossed the cheap white towel to the floor and slipped into his shirts.

Dean looked around the room. "What time is it?"

Sam picked up his watch from the dresser and glanced at it before slipping it onto his wrist. "Almost ten."

Dean nodded and a yawn escaped his lips. "Where are you going?"

"Figured I would go get us something to eat and check us out." He reached for his jacket. "You want anything in particular?"

"Coffee…lots and lots of coffee."

Sam smiled. "I'll see what I can do." He grabbed the keys from the table and left the room.

Dean got up from the bed and grabbed his own clothes out of his duffel. He walked into the bathroom, silently praying his little brother left him some hot water. Sam seemed a little better this morning, but Dean could still sense his brother was troubled. Sam was like an open book, but only one Dean could read. He did well at hiding his true feelings from everyone else.

As the hot water ran down Dean's body he finally reached a decision.

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Sam let out a deep sigh as he settled into the Impala, glad he was out of the motel. He needed a little time to himself, to think things through and gather his thoughts. His head was like a jumbled mess and any second it felt as if it were going to explode. The last couple of days really got him thinking about Dean. The threat of a clocking ticking away Dean's final minutes scared him to death, he realized it was not something he wanted to go through again. It made him feel as if he couldn't breathe, as if someone had grabbed his lungs, squeezed tight and had no plans of letting go.

He had to get Dean out of this deal with the demon, he couldn't allow Dean to sacrifice himself. Dean had been through enough and if anyone deserved the chance at a life, it was his big brother. Sam refused to give Dean up that easily—he would fight to the death if it meant keeping Dean alive, which was kind of ironic since Dean had done it to give Sam life again. But it didn't feel right, didn't feel natural to Sam. He felt as if he were stealing his life from someone else and it almost made him feel tainted. But he could never tell Dean that, he couldn't let Dean feel as if he'd made the deal for nothing, that it didn't mean anything to Sam.

Sam had to make Dean see that, had to sit Dean down and force him to talk. He couldn't stand Dean skirting the subject anymore—it needed to be dealt with. Decisions needed to be made and Sam wasn't going to let it wait until the last minute. The days were already going to by too fast as it was and Sam was afraid it would only go by quicker.

Pulling in front of a small diner a few blocks away, Sam entered and gave his order to the waitress at the counter. As he waited, he sipped on a cup of coffee and then remembering what was in his pocket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He'd gotten on the Internet earlier that morning while Dean was still asleep and had printed it off. He wasn't quite ready to call off the prank war yet—he still owed Dean one more. You could hardly call him creaming Dean with the cake proper retaliation, so Sam knew just how to push his brother over the edge and properly call himself the winner.

It was going to be so good.

Sam quickly put the sheet of paper back into his pocket as the waitress walked over to him, carrying a large plastic bag in one hand and a cup holder with three coffees in the other. Sam paid for their meal, smiled his thanks, and then drove to the motel office in order to get them checked out before they had to pay for another day. He was ready to get out of Lincoln and really get started on a way to get Dean out of his deal.

He signed off on the paperwork and after paying the clerk what he owed for the past couple of nights, he pulled up to their room making sure he parked a little ways away. He couldn't risk Dean coming out and seeing what he was doing. Besides, if Dean happened to walk out on him, Sam would be dead before he even hit the ground. Not that Dean wasn't going to kill him for this anyway, but at least Sam would have a chance to run before Dean could succeed.

It took about fifteen minutes, but as Sam finished he had to admit it was a job well done.

As he grabbed their food and coffee and walked towards their room, Sam could feel his own clock ticking away.

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"You know, every time you go out on an errand, it takes you forever," Dean grumbled as soon as Sam stepped into their room.

"Dude, I was only gone for a little over half an hour—it wasn't that long."

Dean took one of the coffees from the cup holder before Sam could even set it down on the table. "Did you get us checked out?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we still have about an hour to get out of here." He took out a couple of containers and set them down on the table. The aroma of bacon, eggs, sausage, and biscuits immediately filled the small room and both brothers dug in greedily.

They ate in relative silence for about ten minutes before Sam broke the silence. "Listen, Dean…I think it's time we talked—really talked."

Dean brought down the piece of bacon he was about to put into his mouth and nodded, fixing his younger brother with an intense look. "I think you're right, Sammy."

Sam went on as if he didn't hear Dean. "Now, before you argue and you tell me you don't want—" The younger Winchester stopped and looked at Dean in surprise. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I agree, Sam, I think we do need to talk." Dean held up a hand before Sam could say anything else. "Now, I don't want you think we're going to do this all the time. This is a one time deal, so you better make it count."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for what you did for me, Dean, because I am. You sacrificed the rest of your life in order to ensure I still had mine."

"You're damn right, and I'd do it again."

"That's just it, Dean, I don't want you to. I'm so sick and tired of you thinking you're not worth anything, that you don't deserve to live anymore than I do. Because I got news for you, Dean—you do, you deserve it all. You should have a chance at a life, not a life that is centered around the evil in the world."

"Sammy, that's the part you don't understand. That is my life, it has been since the day Mom died. I mean, it's the only thing I've ever known. And with all this evil and destruction that surrounds me, I've only had one good thing come out of it all—that's you."

Sam looked at Dean and the older man could see tears in his younger brother's eyes.

"Sam, I don't want you to look at what I did as a sacrifice, it's not a word I like. It makes it sound as if I was forced to do it, but I wasn't. It was my decision to make this deal and no one could have stopped me, no matter what they tried. You need to understand that."

"That's just it, Dean, I don't know if I can, if I ever will."

Dean swallowed hard. "It's just…when I saw you lying on that bed, not moving, nothing else mattered anymore. If I couldn't have you back in my life, then there was nothing worth living for anymore. I want you to know, I wracked my brain trying to come up with every single solution to the problem and nothing made sense, nothing except for the deal. When I went into it, I really thought I was going to get ten years with you and those ten years made it worth it to me."

"Why didn't you?"

"She wouldn't give it to me. Apparently I had my chance at ten years earlier this year and she wasn't willing to offer it up again. But I'd already put my foot in the door, so I kept bargaining, but she wouldn't hear any of it, and I honestly thought that was it—I'd tried everything, and there wasn't anything else I could do. I was about to throw the towel in and give up."

"But you didn't."

Dean shook his head. "I didn't—she must have taken pity on me and she said I could have my deal, but I'd only get a year out of it."

Sam sighed. "I still think you got the short end of the stick."

"Story of my life, Sammy." Dean chuckled when he saw a small smile form on Sam's face. "It's a year, Sammy, and it's going to be the best damn year of my life."

"How, Dean? In case you didn't notice, we released a lot of demons out of Hell."

"And I plan on bringing every single one of them back to Hell with me."

"Don't say that, Dean—you're not going to Hell."

"Yes, I am, Sammy. We both know that—it's where Dad went after he made his deal."

Sam looked away but not before Dean saw a tear trail down his cheek. "Dean, you had to know when you made the deal, you did it for the both of us."

Dean shook his head vehemently. "You better not be saying what I think you are, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "What makes you think I'll be able to go on when you're gone, Dean? Like you said, there would be no point."

Dean looked at Sam angrily. "God dammit, Sam…"

"It's just the way it is, Dean. That's why I have to find a way for you out of this deal, so I can save the both of us."

Dean didn't like that, he didn't like what he'd heard Sam say. When he made the deal, he never meant to give his brother the same death sentence. But maybe he did do that—Sam was just like him when it came to the other brother. He knew, because he was the same way, there was no way Sam would be able to go on if he didn't have Dean. Dean couldn't have that, he couldn't do it to Sam. "We will, Sam…we're going to find a way out of this. I promise you that."

Sam nodded and Dean saw determination in his eyes. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean stood up and patted Sam firmly on the shoulder. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's say we blow this popsicle stand."

"Yeah…sounds good to me."

The brothers threw away their breakfast remnants and quickly packed their belongings. The whole process only took about ten minutes and they were soon out the door, packing up the Impala. "Why did you park the car so far away?"

"The lot was full when I pulled in—it was the closest space."

Dean nodded and started the car. The Impala's deep rumble filled the air as Boston's _Peace of Mind_ blasted from the speakers. Dean carefully backed out of the parking space and jumped in surprise when the horn blared as he stepped on the brake. "What the hell?"

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know…something must be up with the car." Dean stepped on the brake a second time and once again the horn went off. "I don't understand what's wrong with it. I just checked her out last week."

Sam looked at Dean and the older man could see he was fighting a smile. "Maybe some wires got crossed or something."

Dean put the car in PARK and got out, Sam right behind him. He opened the hood and disappeared for a couple of minutes. When he closed it, he looked sharply at his brother. "How the hell did you know the wires were crossed?"

Sam looked at his brother, his face the picture of innocence. "Lucky guess?" He started to chuckle.

Realization dawned on Dean—his little brother defaced his baby, he violated her! "You messed with my car!"

Sam started to back up slowly as Dean approached him. "Now, Dean, you know I don't know anything about cars."

Dean wasn't hearing any of it. "You messed with my damn car!"

Sam barely managed to get away as his brother launched himself at him, the younger man's laughter echoing off the building. "Oh, come on, Dean! I thought you could take a joke!"

END


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